


there's no such thing as home

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boarding School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:40:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 71,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is quite surprised to find that the boarding school his parents sent him and his sister to isn't as horrible as he'd made it out to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Enjolras sullenly stared out the window, watching fields and towns fly past. He’d bought a book to read at the train station and he had a sandwich tucked away in his bag, along with a chocolate bar that had been in there for about two years and would probably be in there until the end of time.

He briefly glanced at his step-sister, fast asleep in the seat next to him, snoring like a freight train. It was a mystery to him how such a delicate human being could produce such awful noises.

Cosette had taken the news that they’d be going to boarding school remarkably well. Being a foster child, she probably was used to being pushed around a lot, but Enjolras still believed that she deserved a lot better.

The reason they were on this train wasn’t her fault after all.

It was him who’d argued with a teacher one time too often, had spent more time in detention than anyone else in his year, it was him who’d damaged school property, it was him who’d been expelled from three different schools. There was simply no other place for him to go anymore. Cosette, however, she could have stayed. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d had friends, she’d liked the school she’d gone to, but she hadn’t uttered a word of complaint.

Enjolras, too, was pretty unfazed by the fact that he was being shipped off to boarding school. To him it meant that he didn’t have to spend time with his parents anymore, it meant that there wouldn’t be endless discussions about his future, it meant less shouting and more freedom. He’d never really had friends at any of his former schools anyway and he’d long since come to terms with the fact that his parents didn’t care all too much about him, since he’d only been trouble all his life.

It was an expensive school they were going to now, for rich people’s kids, where parents made donations on top of the school fees and where students had all sorts of privileges. Enjolras was sure that his parents had paid a considerable amount to get him and Cosette into this school and he’d have a hard time getting expelled from this one. It was convenient for them, and he was fairly certain that they’d actually been waiting for an excuse to send him away for ages.

Enjolras sighed and checked the time. It would be another thirty minutes until they’d reach their destination. He spent them silently cursing his family, the situation he was in and the family of four that had two of the noisiest children Enjolras had ever encountered in his entire life.

When they were there he woke up Cosette with a shove and wordlessly started gathering his belongings, feeling increasingly grumpy. Enjolras would rather be here than at home, surely, but that didn’t mean he’d like it here. He’d always had a hard time making friends and being locked away in a building populated by obnoxious rich kids wouldn’t make it any better.

His suitcase was light, a lot lighter than Cosette’s in any case. There simply wasn’t much in there, just a couple of clothes, some books, nothing special, really. He’d told himself he didn’t care, and he’d told Cosette he didn’t care when she’d tried to convince him to bring some things to decorate his room with.

He hopped off the train, helped Cosette with her suitcase and then he looked around the station. They’d been told there would be someone to pick them up at the train station and Enjolras was now trying to spy some beastly old lady, because honestly, he didn’t quite know what to expect. Cosette trailed after him, not saying a word, knowing there was no point in arguing with him right now.

“Are you kids going to the boarding school?” someone behind them asked, sounding a little breathless.

Enjolras turned around to find a young man staring at them curiously, his red hair falling into his eyes, and looking like he’d dragged himself out of bed about ten minutes ago. Enjolras regarded him warily, wondering if this dishevelled guy was in fact the person who was supposed to take them to their new school.

“We are,” Cosette piped up when Enjolras failed to answer.

Enjolras cleared his throat. “Someone is supposed to pick us up.”

“Yeah, that would be me,” the guy confirmed. “My name’s Feuilly, I’m the caretaker at the school, and since about an hour ago apparently also a chauffeur.”

Enjolras huffed out a laugh, feeling a little less annoyed now that he knew they’d actually make it to the school and wouldn’t have to hike there. Not that he knew where exactly the school was, he just assumed that it couldn’t be all that far.

“So, do you have names?” Feuilly asked as he led them to an old, rusty Volkswagen.

“I’m Cosette,” his sister said, “this is Enjolras. He’s grumpy because he’s hungry.”

“I’m not,” Enjolras grumbled. He was grumpy because he’d spent an incredibly long time on a train and because he wasn’t too happy with his parents. And maybe also because he was a little hungry.

Cosette gave him a look that said _yeah, right_ , and climbed into the passenger seat of Feuilly’s car. Enjolras was glad that they ignored him completely while Feuilly was pointing out nice places to go to in town, all of which Enjolras didn’t pay any mind.

He was glad when they finally pulled up in front of the school. It looked just like in the brochures –neatly kept, clearly prestigious, completely and utterly devoid of all life.

“Most students won’t get here until tomorrow afternoon probably,” Feuilly explained as he led them towards the main entrance. “People usually don’t come here by train after the summer, most kids get dropped off by their parents, and since classes don’t start until Monday, they don’t come here any earlier.” He held open the door for the two of them. “Right, just wait here for a second. Enjolras, one of the head boys of your floor is already here, actually, I’ll go get him and he can show you around.”

Enjolras managed not to start laughing until Feuilly was gone. “They have head boys here,” he whispered to Cosette.

“I wish you’d just give this school a chance. It doesn’t look too bad,” she mumbled, slowly gazing around the entrance hall.

“Not bad for a breeding place for young capitalists.”

Cosette rolled her eyes. “Please don’t say that to anyone’s face.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Yeah, I know what happens when you _try your best_ , you always end up with a black eye or a bloody nose and-”

They were interrupted when Feuilly reappeared with someone else in tow. It was a tall guy with glasses, quiet looking, but with a pleasant smile. Enjolras didn’t think he looked like one of the regular rich kids, so here was to hoping that this guy might actually turn out to be a sensible human being who didn’t think that their sole purpose in life was to spend their parents’ fortune.

“Enjolras, this is Combeferre,” Feuilly said, pointing at the guy next to him, “he’ll be showing you around. Cosette, please follow me.”

“See you later,” Cosette chirped and followed Feuilly down a corridor on the left, whilst Combeferre led him down a corridor on the right, up a flight of stairs and through a set of doors.

“They’re not really as strict about keeping boys and girls apart as it looks. They won’t be mad if they catch you over there or them over here, unless it’s in the middle of the night,” Combeferre explained. “Or if it’s Javert who catches you.”

Enjolras hardly listened, because he was too busy heaving his suitcase up the stairs, which Combeferre seemed to notice, because he reached for one of the handles to aid Enjolras in his struggle.

“So, how long have you been here?” Enjolras asked when they’d made it to the top of the stairs.

“My father dropped me off this morning,” Combeferre said and held a door open for him, “it’s my third year here.”

Enjolras brushed a stray strand of hair out of his face. “And you like it here?”

Combeferre shrugged. “I like it well enough,” he said simply. “Alright, so your room is right through here.” He pointed at a door to their right. “There are more rooms back there. They’re all for people in our year, but yeah…” He ushered Enjolras through the door. “The showers are over here and this is the common room, I’ll show you that one later, let me take you to your room first.”

Enjolras followed Combeferre all the way down the hall, looking at the small signs next to the doors, reading the names there, thinking that tomorrow he’d probably have to try to remember all the faces that went with them.

“This is you,” Combeferre said when they’d reached the end of the hallway. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes to settle in. My room is the one right next to the common room, come get me when you’re ready and I’ll give you the full tour.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras managed and stepped into his room. It was smaller than his room at home, obviously, then again, he hadn’t expected much to begin with. There was a desk and a closet on the left, a single bed to the right, and a small mirror next to the door.

Enjolras stared at his reflection in the mirror for a few seconds. Long strands of his hair had started falling out of his bun, he looked pale, even more so than usual, and his clothes were rumpled. All in all he looked like he’d spent the better part of the day travelling. He sighed and tossed his suitcase onto his bed, then he briefly glanced out the window, taking in the view of the long driveway leading down to the main road and the rolling hills on the other side of it.

He could be doing so much worse. However, he probably shouldn’t judge this place until he’d got into his first argument with a teacher. Or until he’d met the rest of his fellow students.

Combeferre, at least, seemed like he could be pleasant company, but it wouldn’t be the first time that Enjolras had been completely wrong about person. Enjolras briefly glanced at his still unopened suitcase, decided unpacking could wait, and walked back down the hall to Combeferre’s room.

When he knocked, Combeferre called, “Come in,” so Enjolras did, looking around curiously. Combeferre’s room was set up exactly like his own, and there were two empty suitcases on the floor, but their contents were nowhere to be seen. There were only a couple photos stuck to the wall and stacks of books neatly piled up on his desk.

“Ready for the tour?” Combeferre asked and put down the book he’d been reading.

“Sure,” Enjolras said, wondering if he maybe should have faked a little more enthusiasm.

Combeferre didn’t seem like he was bothered by his bad mood, though, and beckoned Enjolras to follow him. “Okay, so as I said, showers and all that are over here, I don’t suppose I have to explain what those are for, laundry pick-up is on Mondays if you’re signed up for that… and this,” he said and led Enjolras through a door, “is the common room. Don’t put anything in the fridge, you’ll never see it again, even if you put a note with your name on it, no one cares. The person who gets here first gets to pick what’s on TV, don’t even try to argue, it’ll just make everyone hate you.”

“Duly noted,” Enjolras said dryly. He spotted a shelf with DVDs and mostly torn-up books and board games that had probably survived generations of students. There were sofas, all of them matching, a neatly folded stack of blankets on top of a wooden chest by the window, a big table next to the fridge, and a flat screen TV in the corner.

“Lights go out at 11,” Combeferre continued when Enjolras was done looking around, “but don’t feel like you have to stick to that rule. If we keep quiet we don’t get in trouble. And if you have any problems at all, come to me first. Lamarque is in charge of our dorms, but we usually don’t bother him unless it’s something important. He would have welcomed you himself but he’s at a conference this weekend and won’t be back until tomorrow night,” Combeferre told him as he led him down more halls, showed him the cafeteria, some of the classrooms, the main office, the assembly hall, then they made a detour to the library, which was closed – “Just so you know where it is,” Combeferre said – and afterwards they ended up back in the cafeteria to have dinner.

There they also met Cosette and a couple of other students who’d arrived early, the headmaster, Monsieur Valjean came to greet them all personally, and Combeferre filled him in on how to get to the swimming pool and the football field, told him about the best time to go eat breakfast and when it was a good time to shower. Every now and then he pointed out a teacher and Enjolras tried his hardest to remember everything Combeferre said to him, which was getting increasingly harder.

“So, Cosette is your younger sister, right?” Combeferre asked when they were on the way back to their dorm.

“Actually, she’s my step-sister,” Enjolras corrected him. He was used to people thinking that he and Cosette were related, admittedly, they did look somewhat alike. “My parents adopted her when she was five, because her mother couldn’t take care of her anymore. I think she was sick, but I honestly don’t remember, I was six and not too happy that I suddenly had a sister.”

Combeferre’s lips were twitching. “I see.”

“We get along now,” Enjolras said with a shrug. “At least most of the time. But I assume my parents are quite happy that they don’t have to listen to our bickering anymore.” He followed Combeferre into his room without a second thought. “What about your family?” He wasn’t sure if all parents sent their children to boarding school because they just didn’t want to deal with them anymore, and Enjolras also wasn’t quite sure how to ask.

“My two sisters both went here, so did my dad and my uncle, it’s sort of a family tradition, I suppose” Combeferre said and started putting his books on the shelf above his desk. “You can sit down, you know,” he added, gesturing at his bed.

Enjolras, who’d been standing next to Combeferre’s closet, quickly sat down on the bed. “So you get along with your parents?” He didn’t want to be nosy, really, but Combeferre seemed like such a nice, open person, and Enjolras felt like they might even become friends, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“Does anyone really get along with their parents?” Combeferre mused. He turned around, leaning against his desk. “But to answer your question… I think better than most people. But maybe that’s only because I hardly ever see them.”

Enjolras grinned. “Well, at least they didn’t just send you away because they didn’t want to have you around anymore.”

Combeferre frowned. “Is that why you think you’re here?”

“I was too much trouble at home and here I am.”

“And your sister?”

Enjolras was pretty sure he knew the reason for that, but he didn’t need to annoy Combeferre with all of his family’s problems just now. “I suppose it was just convenient?”

“Well, whatever the reason may be, you’re here now and I’ll introduce you to everyone else tomorrow. You know, we’re all family here.”

Enjolras bit his lip. It almost sounded too good to be true. “What are they like?”

“Oh, they’re a cheerful bunch,” Combeferre said, smiling at the thought of his friends. “You’re going to like them, I’m sure.”

When Enjolras finally started unpacking his belongings later that evening, he started wondering if he might have to rethink his attitude towards this school. So far it didn’t seem to be such a horrible place after all and maybe he’d make actual friends for the first time in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me because I actually don't know anything about boarding schools.  
> I realise nothing much has happened yet, but Enjolras will meet everyone in the next chapter, I promise.  
> I'm also not too sure about the rating, because this set-up basically demands awkward first times, I just don't know how explicit that'll turn out yet, so I might change it later on.


	2. Chapter 2

When the sun came up the next morning, Enjolras wasn’t quite sure if he’d slept at all. It had been eerily quiet all night, although Enjolras was certain that would change once all the other students had moved in, and he’d had nothing to do to distract himself.

He tried to go back to sleep, but soon realised that it was probably time to get used to the fact that he’d feel like a corpse for the rest of the day. He’d never been a big fan of getting up early.

Enjolras padded down the hall to the showers as quietly as he could, since he didn’t want to make his only friend hate him because he woke him up at 7 am on a Sunday, although maybe it was a little too soon to call Combeferre his friend.

As it turned out later on, Combeferre was an early riser, and came to get Enjolras for breakfast shortly after 8 o’clock.

Cosette seemed to have made a friend already and only quickly waved at Enjolras before she went to sit with a dark-haired girl at a table near the entrance of the dining hall. He could hear the both of them giggle from all the way across the room.

Combeferre followed his gaze and smiled. “Don’t worry, Musichetta won’t get her in trouble.”

“I’m not worried,” Enjolras mumbled defensively and chose to stare at his bowl of cereal instead of his sister.

“Of course not,” Combeferre said, still smiling pleasantly.

Enjolras frowned. “I’m serious.” It wasn’t like Cosette needed a babysitter and he trusted her judgement, but she was his little sister after all, even though she was adopted and only a year younger than him

“Good, because you won’t be able to keep an eye on her anyway,” Combeferre mused and shoved the rest of his toast into his mouth.

They ended up back in Combeferre’s room with a newspaper they’d found, Combeferre in his chair and Enjolras on his bed. Combeferre kept handing him the parts he was done with, looking up every now and then to make a comment on an article Enjolras was reading.

Not long after they’d returned from an early lunch, where considerably more people had been present, there was a loud thump in the hallway, then Combeferre’s door flew open and someone threw themselves straight onto Combeferre’s bed, where Enjolras had resumed his previous position to read.

Enjolras stared down at the mop of dark curls in confusion and looked to Combeferre for some kind of explanation. He assumed the guy was one of his friends, but Combeferre seemed to be just as confused as he was.

“I’m such an idiot,” the guy muttered into the sheets.

Combeferre sighed. “I’m glad you finally came to that conclusion.”

The guy suddenly looked up, first starting at Combeferre, then straight at Enjolras, his brown eyes narrowed. “Wait, I don’t know you. Who are you?”

“That’s Enjolras, he’s new.” Combeferre pointed at the guy on his bed. “That’s Courfeyrac. He’s overdramatic.”

“I’m _really_ not,” Courfeyrac said and turned to Enjolras. “Don’t listen to Combeferre. Ever.”

Enjolras raised his eyebrows, not really sure what to say.

“Anyway,” Courfeyrac continued, obviously not expecting an answer, “I just saw Jehan in the entrance hall, he was with his parents and they were talking to Valjean.”

“And?” Combeferre inquired, his lips twitching.

 “And I saw him and he saw me and I didn’t know what do to, so I sort of just... ran away.”

Combeferre raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t even say hello?”

“No, I didn’t, I’m such an idiot,” Courfeyrac whined and buried his face in Combeferre’s bedsheets again.

“I’m pretty sure he’ll forgive you for not saying hello,” Enjolras said, trying to be helpful.

Combeferre made a noise that sounded somewhat like a choked giggle. “Yeah, Enjolras is right, he’ll forgive you for not saying hello. He might not forgive you for kissing him and then barely saying a word to him all summer, though.”

“I didn’t mean to. I always get so nervous when I talk to him and I did an internship at my dad’s law firm, I told you, I hardly had time for _anything_.”

“Well, you had time to call me every other night to tell me how much you miss him.”

“Sorry, new guy, this must be so confusing for you,” Courfeyrac suddenly said to Enjolras, who had a feeling that he was just conveniently changing the topic.

“You kissed a guy and then you ignored him all summer?” At least that was what Enjolras had got from that conversation. He was hoping that he wouldn’t be asked for advice, though, since he didn’t know a thing about relationships, mostly because he just wasn’t interested them in general. Relationships were too messy.

“I didn’t ignore him,” Courfeyrac grumbled, “I just wasn’t being clear about my feelings towards him, I suppose.” He scratched his head. “And now he probably hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“How can you be so sure about that, you don’t even-”

“Hi everyone.” Another boy had appeared in the door that Courfeyrac had left wide open when he’d barged in. He was tall and slender, like he’d recently gown quite a bit but the rest of his body hadn’t had time to catch up yet, his long hair was braided, the colours of his clothes were clashing, and even though most people would have thought his appearance was downright odd, Enjolras immediately liked him.

Going by the way Courfeyrac turned pale at the sight of him, Enjolras guessed that this was probably Jehan.

“Hello,” Courfeyrac croaked as he scrambled off the bed, wordlessly stomped over to Jehan and pulled him into a kiss.

Jehan seemed to be surprisingly unimpressed by Courfeyrac’s sudden advance and kissed him back without a word of complaint.

“Well, that’s one way to do it, I guess,” Combeferre muttered.

Someone out in the hallway whistled loudly, then they pushed passed Courfeyrac and Jehan, who were still attached by their lips. “Guys, did you see, we have a new kid, his name is-”

“Enjolras,” Combeferre finished for him.

Enjolras waved at him. “Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, I didn’t see you there, I’m Bahorel,” the guy said and shook his hand with a little too much enthusiasm. “If anyone gives you shit, let me know.”

“I, um... thank you,” Enjolras said slowly.  

Jehan soon dragged off Courfeyrac, saying he needed help unpacking and Bahorel didn’t stay for long either, only mumbled something about helping Grantaire with his luggage. Enjolras thought that name sounded vaguely familiar.

“Grantaire?” he asked Combeferre.

“He’s in the room next to yours.”

Enjolras nodded. So that’s where he’d seen his name. He could only hope that he was as nice as the rest of them.

The next one he was introduced to was Joly, who lived in the room next to Combeferre’s and who didn’t seem to be able to stop sneezing, mumbling something about the flu and paying the nurse a visit later on.

Two other boys, Bossuet and Marius, joined them during dinner, both of them red-faced and a little out of breath, because, as Marius told them all when he’d got himself something to eat, Bossuet had somehow managed to let go of his suitcase as he’d dragged it up the stairs and it had landed right on Marius’ foot.

Joly was patting Bossuet’s back as he apologised to Marius over and over again, but was shaking with laughter at the same time.

“It’s fine,” Marius assured him, a blush creeping onto his cheeks again, “I wasn’t paying attention either.”

Courfeyrac grinned broadly. “And why is that?”

Enjolras wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Marius’ face turned even redder. “Well,” he said, shyly glancing around the table, “there was this girl.”

“Aw, is Marius in love?” Jehan asked, smiling at him sweetly.

Enjolras noticed Courfeyrac’s gaze flicker to Jehan at that, but only briefly. There was a polite distance between him and Jehan, so they probably hadn’t quite worked out whatever problems they were having, but they were sitting next to each other, that probably was a good sign.  

“Who is she?” Bossuet asked and threw one of his chips at Marius when he didn’t answer. “Did you talk to her?”

“No, I only saw her for about a second,” Marius said, looking genuinely distraught.

“Well, she shouldn’t be that hard to find.” Courfeyrac patted him on the back and then started eating the rest of Jehan’s pasta. “By the way, has anyone seen Grantaire?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s outside smoking with Bahorel,” Jehan mumbled.

Enjolras looked up. “Aren’t they going to get in trouble for that?”

“Oh, honey,” Courfeyrac whispered and reached over the table to pat Enjolras’ arm. “You have so much to learn.”

Bossuet nodded in agreement. “Rule number one,” he said, “if Javert doesn’t see you do it, no one will give a shit.”

“Javert is like a bloodhound, he can smell when you’re doing something forbidden, he even knows when you _think_ about doing something forbidden,” Courfeyrac told him in a low voice. “He even keeps waiting for Valjean to do something wrong.”

“He’s a little paranoid if you ask me,” Joly muttered conspirationally.

“Sometimes he even-”

“Hey kids, did you miss me?” A curly-haired guy had appeared behind Joly and Bossuet and was now trying to hug both of them at the same time. Bahorel showed up seconds later, carrying two steaming plates of pasta.

“There you are,” Jehan said happily, “we were wondering where you guys were.”

“Tool sheds,” Bahorel told him with a wink.

“Smoking is incredibly unhealthy, you know?” Joly said, first looking at Bahorel, then at Grantaire, who was trying to squeeze a chair in between Combeferre’s and Bossuet’s.

Grantaire sighed, but he somehow managed to make it sound fond. “So you keep saying.” He grinned and then turned to Enjolras. “Right then, who’s pretty boy over here?”

Enjolras pursed his lips. “My name’s Enjolras.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure... _Enjolras_.”

Something about the way Grantaire said his name made Enjolras want to punch him, hard, and Grantaire’s smirk didn’t exactly lighten his mood either.

“That’s Grantaire... if you haven’t guessed as much already,” Combeferre said to him conversationally.

Enjolras huffed somewhat angrily. “Yeah, I figured.”

Courfeyrac watched them with raised eyebrows and Enjolras really wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what he was thinking right now.

He silently finished his dinner, watching everyone joke around and talk about where they’d gone on holiday and Enjolras felt more at home than he ever had back at his parents’ house. Combeferre had been right; they really were a cheerful bunch.

 Enjolras was surprised that he got along so well with all of them, maybe it was just due to the fact that they were practically strangers and still they’d accepted him into their middle as if he’d belonged there along. Maybe it was because they didn’t behave like the spoilt kids Enjolras had expected to find here.

Grantaire kept glancing over at him from time to time and Enjolras got a feeling that he didn’t seem to like him all that much. For what reason Enjolras didn’t know, since they’d barely said a word to each other, and well, sometimes he was quick to judge people himself, and yet he couldn’t help but wonder what it was that had made Grantaire dislike him already.

Enjolras hadn’t even insulted his capitalist parents or his narrow-minded worldview yet, but he could already feel that it was about to happen. Probably sooner rather than later. Enjolras listened as Grantaire told them about his adventures on some Caribbean island, which included a lot of joking around, stories about one girl or another, waking up on the other side of the island after a night out, which his parents apparently hadn’t even noticed, and then a few more stories about some girls whose acquaintance he’d made.

Enjolras really had trouble not rolling his eyes at this rather dull topic, but at least Courfeyrac and Bahorel seemed to enjoy themselves and laughed along with Grantaire, and even though he would have much rather joined the discussion on Kant that Combeferre and Jehan seemed to be engaged in, Enjolras somehow wasn’t able to look away from Grantaire.

Everything about him seemed infuriating, from the quirk of his lips to his roaring laughter.

When Joly, Bossuet, Combeferre and Jehan got up to go back upstairs, Enjolras joined them, leaving behind the rest of them, who had now moved on to a different subject, namely Bahorel’s summer job at some swimming pool. Marius, much to the confusion of everyone, stayed behind with them.

“Probably looking for that girl,” Joly said, giggling all the way up the stairs.

“He’ll probably find her and just stare at her,” Bossuet mused.

Combeferre patted both of them on the back. “Well, it’s not like any of you two has managed to talk to Musichetta.”

“That’s different,” Joly protested instantly.

“Totally different,” Bossuet agreed.

Enjolras figured he’d probably have to learn to deal with all that relationship talk. He’d also have to get used to people talking about things he knew nothing about.

“I’m pretty sure Courfeyrac will be there to help him out,” Jehan said quietly.

Bossuet snorted. “Courfeyrac actually isn’t helpful at all.”

“Yeah, Enjolras, don’t ever ask Courfeyrac for advice,” Joly said with a serious expression. “He once told us to go sing a song for her under her window to win her over.”

“I’m glad Grantaire wouldn’t let me borrow his guitar,” Bossuet whispered.

When Jehan simply marched straight into Combeferre’s room and Joly and Bossuet both followed him, Enjolras joined them as well. Under usual circumstances he would retreat to his room, maybe read some articles on his laptop before he went to bed and ignore everyone who tried to bother him, but he actually _liked_ spending time with these people and maybe one of them would be able to tell him why exactly Grantaire didn’t seem to like him.

He didn’t even know why he cared, most people didn’t like him, Enjolras was used to it.

“We do have a common room, you know?” Combeferre said, staring at the four people perched on his bed.

“It’s much nicer here, though,” Jehan told him and hugged Combeferre’s pillow to his chest.

Combeferre sighed and, shaking his head, sat down at his desk. It seemed to Enjolras that he actually didn’t mind at all that they were all refusing to leave.

“Okay, so Enjolras, I’m curious... did you go to another boarding school before?”

“I went to a couple of private schools, then to public school,” Enjolras said, wondering how much of the truth he should actually tell them. They’d judge him. He’d be the weird kid who started fights with teachers.

“Oh, did your parents move around a lot?” Bossuet asked, sounding like he was genuinely interested.

“Not exactly.” Enjolras shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “I just got in trouble a lot, so I suppose no other place would have me.”

Joly nodded knowingly. “I see.”

“Sounds a bit like Bahorel,” Bossuet said, grinning broadly. “Did you beat people up a lot when they didn’t agree with you, too?”

“No, I mostly picked fights with teachers and tried to get people to boycott the school cafeteria,” Enjolras mumbled.

“Impressive,” Jehan said lightly.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“Oh, absolutely. Were you successful?”

“Not really,” Enjolras had to admit.

“You know, we tried to get funding for new books for the library last year and we staged a bit of a protest,” Joly told him.

“It didn’t work,” Bossuet added.

“We made a valiant effort,” Combeferre said. He’d been so quiet, Enjolras had almost forgotten that he was there.

Enjolras was just about to ask them to tell him the whole story when the door flew open and Courfeyrac and Marius tumbled inside.

“I saw her again,” Marius said dreamily as he sat down on the windowsill. “She’s an angel.”

“Who is she?” Jehan asked, eyes on Courfeyrac.

“Well, _someone_ was too scared to ask her.” Courfeyrac sat down at Jehan’s feet. “Basically I only got to listen to Marius being creepy for half an hour.”

Marius made a disgruntled noise. “I wasn’t being creepy. Anyway, I asked Eponine to find out for me.”

“Oh my god, Marius,” Jehan whispered.

“Eponine is a little bit in love with Marius,” Joly muttered so quietly that only Enjolras could hear. “And he’s a little bit oblivious.”

Enjolras nodded understandingly, although he didn’t understand at all. For starters, he didn’t have any idea who Eponine even was.

Monsieur Lamarque actually came to welcome them all back a little later, made a remark about Combeferre’s room being misused as a common room _again_ , shook Enjolras’ hand and made him promise to come to him if he ever needed anything, and finally left them with a plate of chocolate biscuits and told them not to stay up too late with a wink.

As soon as he was gone, Grantaire and Bahorel appeared in the doorway. “Well then, are you ready for the party?”

“Not in my room,” Combeferre said firmly.

Courfeyrac, who’d been leaning against Jehan’s propped up legs, sat up. “How much booze did you sneak in?”

“Enough,” Grantaire said, grinning smugly.

Enjolras didn’t even question his irrational hatred for that grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I mentioned this earlier... I'll be using their last names as first names for the sake of convenience.  
> Feedback is welcome, as always.


	3. Chapter 3

Enjolras had meant to go to bed. He was tired and he didn’t even like parties. Not that he’d been to one in a while, not that he’d know, he just assumed. The last time he’d been invited to a birthday party had been years ago, when he was nine or ten. His parents had given up on throwing him birthday parties a long time ago and he’d always made sure to stay very, very far away from Cosette’s.

Anyhow, he was now sitting on one of the sofas in the common room, wedged between a slightly tipsy Jehan, who was busy staring at Courfeyrac, who was joking around with Grantaire across the room, and Combeferre, with whom Enjolras was now discussing unemployment rates.

He was pretty sure that regular parties weren’t like that. He’d heard people talking at school, sitting next to him, knowing he heard, knowing he hadn’t been invited, telling each other stories that mainly involved drinking, brawls and successful sexual advances.

Bahorel had offered him a drink, but had moved on quickly when Enjolras had declined. Grantaire and Bahorel were now well on the way to being completely and utterly hammered and Enjolras was starting to wonder how they were going to survive the following day. But the way that Joly kept urging them to drink some water in between drinks and shots made Enjolras realise that this probably wasn’t the first time they’d decided to have a little party and therefore knew how to deal with it.

“Do you guys do this often?” Enjolras asked after he’d been watching Grantaire juggle empty shot glasses, which he was surprisingly good at, given the fact that he’d already had God knows how many shots of tequila.

“Not really,” Jehan said, tearing his eyes off Courfeyrac, who’d started waltzing with Marius to some pop song Enjolras vaguely recognised. Well, they stumbled more than they danced, actually. “We do like our parties, but it’s more like a special occasion thing, you know?”

“Anyway, Lamarque wouldn’t let us,” Combeferre added. “He ignores it if it doesn’t happen too often, though.”

“And he doesn’t know how much booze Grantaire actually sneaks in,” Jehan whispered, just when Courfeyrac decided he had enough of dancing and flopped down right on top of him. “Well, hello there.”

“Hello, friends,” Courfeyrac shouted as he wrapped his arms around Jehan’s neck and kissed him on the cheek.

Jehan blushed furiously. “Anyway,” he said, his voice a little higher than before, “we try to keep the volume down and we make sure that we behave ourselves when Javert’s on night duty. They told you about Javert, right?”

“Yeah, they did. Sort of,” Enjolras confirmed. Combeferre had pointed out Javert the day before and Enjolras had realised immediately that he should probably make an effort not to piss him off. Apparently he taught algebra, which was one of the subjects where Enjolras usually found very little to argue about.

“He doesn’t like us,” Courfeyrac told him. “Not since we broke into the swimming pool last year.”

“That was only you and Grantaire, though.”

“You broke into the swimming pool?”

“Midnight swims are nice,” Courfeyrac said innocently. “Grantaire is the master of lock-picking, let me tell you. We just didn’t realise that Javert had taken over for Mabeuf that night, I mean, no one ever checks the pool. Except for Javert, obviously.”

“Did you get in trouble?” Enjolras asked. Since he’d only heard horror stories about Javert so far, he was a little surprised that Courfeyrac and Grantaire were both still here.

Courfeyrac chuckled. “Not exactly. Javert was furious, of course. Dragged us to Valjean in the middle of the night, dripping wet, and Valjean just told us to go to bed and said we’d have a talk in the morning.” Courfeyrac shrugged and snuggled a little closer to Jehan. “Anyway, we were stuck with Feuilly for two weeks after that, to help him fix stuff and all that, but Feuilly _loves_ us, so it wasn’t too bad.”

“Yeah, he came to love us after the one time we nearly set fire to our common room,” Combeferre said nonchalantly.

“You what?” Enjolras asked incredulously.

Combeferre pushed his glassed back up his nose. “Joly and I were doing an experiment and it got a little... out of hand. We got it under control eventually, but we ruined the table and Feuilly kindly got us a new one without telling anyone. We helped him clean up part of the basement in return.”

“He thought it was hilarious,” Courfeyrac added.

“Lamarque obviously noticed,” Jehan said quietly.

“Complimented us on our new acquisition.”

“Yeah, but you know, he’s cool as long as we don’t really fuck shit up,” Courfeyrac said.

Jehan nodded. “Which means we have to get Grantaire out of here before Lamarque comes to check on us.”

As if on cue, Grantaire dropped the empty bottle he’d been playing with – not that Enjolras had been watching – and Joly started fussing about the shards of glass now littering the floor.

“Well, I suppose the party’s over,” Bossuet said and bent down to help Joly pick up the shards. It took about two seconds until he started cursing and Joly ushered them all out of the room. Only Combeferre stayed back to help clean up, while Jehan and Bahorel dragged a loudly complaining Grantaire down the hall to his room.

“Good night, Enjolras,” Courfeyrac called, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Enjolras was starting to ask himself what kind of strange school he’d ended up at.

* * *

Enjolras didn’t think he’d end up seeing Courfeyrac as early as he did the next morning, when he came bursting into his room, screaming “Wakey wakey”, and jumped straight onto Enjolras’ bed with a too-loud squeal.

Enjolras groaned into his pillow. “What the hell.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to oversleep, it’s your first day after all,” Courfeyrac explained cheerfully. “I gather you’re not a morning person.”

“Not until breakfast,” Enjolras mumbled. He couldn’t help but smile at Courfeyrac, who was beaming down at him, even though he wasn’t exactly a functioning human being right now. At least he manage to reach over to turn off his alarm clock.

Courfeyrac was dressed, he was wearing a bowtie, for God’s sake, and for some reason that made Enjolras like him even more, even though he’d just woke him up about half an hour too early, which was usually a good enough reason for Enjolras to plan someone’s murder. “Well, you’re not the only one,” Courfeyrac said sympathetically. “You know, I’d pet your hair or something, but I feel like we don’t know each other well enough for that.”

Enjolras was pretty sure that no one had ever petted his hair in all his life. It was a definite sign that he wasn’t quite awake yet, because he actually found himself wondering what it would feel like if someone did.

“Morning.” Combeferre poked his head in through the door and sat down at Enjolras’ desk. He, too, was dressed and didn’t seem tired in the slightest.

“How do you all manage to look so awake this early in the morning,” Enjolras muttered.

Courfeyrac grinned. “It’s a gift.”

Enjolras was almost relieved when Jehan scuffled into his room, still wearing pyjamas, his eyes barely open and his hair in a messy braid. He slumped down next to Courfeyrac and immediately closed his eyes again once Courfeyrac had slung an arm around him.

“Told you,” Courfeyrac whispered to Enjolras.

“Stop talking ‘bout me,” Jehan mumbled and burrowed even closer to Courfeyrac.

“I wasn’t talking about you, love,” Courfeyrac cooed.

Enjolras could see Combeferre rolling his eyes, but he somehow managed to make it look fond.

Jehan made a displeased noise. “Sure you weren’t.”

“We need to make sure Grantaire gets up on time,” Courfeyrac said in an attempt to change the topic.

Jehan’s eyes fluttered open at the mention of Grantaire’s name. “Yeah, he didn’t seem too well last night. Said a lot of stuff about his parents, you know what he’s like when he’s a little drunk, but I’m a bit worried.”

Enjolras sat up, starting to feel moderately awake. “What’s the deal with his parents?”

“They’re assholes,” Jehan said bluntly. “They don’t give a damn about him most of the time, but they won’t let him do his thing either. It’s just...” Jehan bit his lip. “Maybe you should talk to him about it, it’s not really my story to tell.”

“Good morning, guys.” Marius had appeared in the doorway. He looked a bit rumpled, and Enjolras could see that his socks had different colours and he somehow had a feeling that it wasn’t intentional.

Bahorel turned up a second later, shoving Marius inside Enjolras’ room. “What are we doing?”

“Planning world domination,” Courfeyrac said, completely serious.

“And how’s that going for you?” Bahorel asked as he tried to sit on Combeferre, who made him rethink that decision with the most terrifying glare Enjolras had ever seen. Enjolras was pretty sure that he could learn a lot from Combeferre. Bahorel settled for leaning against the desk instead.

“Can we go have breakfast?” Marius asked eagerly before Courfeyrac could answer.

“Ohh, Marius wants to see his girl,” Courfeyrac said, bouncing up and down on Enjolras’ bed.

Marius turned flaming red within less than a second. “No, I’m just really hungry, that’s all.”

Courfeyrac cackled. “Of course you are.”

“Alright, maybe I also want to talk to Eponine.”

“Right, let’s go have breakfast.”

Enjolras watched as Courfeyrac left, carrying Jehan on his back, Marius following on their heels. He could hear them yell loudly, he didn’t get what exactly they were saying, but he was pretty sure that everyone in the whole school was awake by the time they’d reached the end of the hall.

“Well, I suppose if we go now it won’t take us half an hour to get through to the cereal,” Combeferre muttered and got up. Before he left, he turned to Enjolras. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah, just give me a second.”

When Combeferre had left together with Bahorel, Enjolras grabbed a towel and went for a quick shower. When he walked back to his room he quite literally ran into Grantaire, who was sporting a rather outstanding bedhead and probably wasn’t actually awake yet, because he only gaped at Enjolras and didn’t say a word when Enjolras muttered “Good morning” as he passed.

Down in the dining hall he found Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Joly at the same table they’d had dinner at, where he, too, joined them after he’d got himself some tea and cereal. On his way back he also walked past Marius, who was talking to a dark-haired girl, orange juice slowly dribbling down his hand, which he didn’t even seem to notice.

“Where’s Jehan?” Enjolras asked as he sat down next to Courfeyrac.

“Oh, he wanted to go check on Grantaire.”

“I just saw Grantaire in the hallway.”

“Then he probably fell asleep again,” Joly mused, smiling knowingly.

“We better get him some breakfast, otherwise he won’t make it through assembly.”

“Guys, hey guys, listen.” Marius nearly sat next to his chair instead of on it. “I just saw her again, she’s so beautiful. She looks like an angel, I swear, you should see her.”

Joly made a noise that sounded a lot like a suppressed giggle. “Sorry,” he whispered when Marius bestowed him with as much of a death glare as he seemed to be able to muster.

“I know who she is,” Marius added, looking around the table dreamily.

Everyone fell silent, staring at Marius, until Combeferre finally spoke up. “Well?”

Marius took a deep breath. “She’s new here and her name’s Cosette, she’s-”

“My sister?” Enjolras cut in. Of course it was his sister. She’d always been pretty, it was just that she hadn’t quite realised until recently, when boys had started asking her out and he’d found her staring in the mirror for nearly half an hour a couple of months ago. Enjolras had teased her about it for weeks.

Marius’ eyes went wide. “Your...?”

“Holy fuck,” Courfeyrac whispered, looking around the dining hall. “Where is she?”

“Over there,” Enjolras said, nodding in the general direction of where Cosette was sitting with a group of girls.

“Good on you, Marius,” Courfeyrac whispered.

“Who are we staring at?” Grantaire announced his arrival loudly.

Enjolras tried very hard not to roll his eyes, but failed, and wasn’t in the least bit surprised that both Cosette and Musichetta turned around to look in their direction. Cosette stuck her tongue out at Enjolras when she spotted him. He only turned around, since he didn’t want to dignify that with a response, and found that Marius was trying to hind behind Grantaire, who’d sat down next to him.

Their table filled up rather quickly after that and Enjolras tried not to listen too closely to what Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Joly were saying to Marius. From what he picked up it sounded like they were trying to persuade him to ask Cosette out on a date.

He was quite happy for the distraction when Combeferre asked him which optional subjects he’d chosen, which prompted Enjolras to rant about how he’d ended up in the art class instead of the music class. He had absolutely no artistic talent whatsoever, so he was pretty sure that that class would be nothing but a struggle.

Enjolras didn’t even notice that Grantaire was listening in on their conversation with a smile playing around his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't know anything about boarding schools and have no idea if it's really that easy to sneak in booze. (It is that easy on TV, though. Maybe TV has lied to me. We just don't know.)


	4. Chapter 4

It didn’t take Enjolras too long to get used to his daily routine. He got used to Courfeyrac coming to wake him up way too early in the morning at least twice a week, and to Jehan’s quite frequent cuddles, he got used to Joly making a fuss when any of them looked tired or a little too pale, simply because he cared.

He’d learned that telling Courfeyrac to get the fuck out of his room and let him sleep did absolutely nothing, he’d gone from being uncomfortable when Jehan threw his arms around him to awkwardly hugging him back and he’d explained to Joly that there was no time ever when he didn’t look as pale as a ghost.

At first he’d thought it was strange, because Enjolras really had never been a very social human being. He wasn’t used to people listening to him, especially when it came to things like ranting about the government, but Combeferre had proved to be a fantastic listener, and so had Courfeyrac, who sometimes got even angrier than Enjolras, which really was quite impressive and also somewhat alarming.

They all cared a lot about each other, they really were a family, and now, after a few short weeks, Enjolras was already a part of it. Jehan had given him a potted plant that everyone but Enjolras was taking care of, because, honestly, plants died when Enjolras only so much as looked at them. He was grateful, obviously, since it had been the first step to make his room look like someone actually lived in it. Now it was a mess of clothes thrown over his chair, books borrowed from various people on every available surface, and unfinished essays and homework piled up on his desk. Sometimes Combeferre sat amidst his chaos, but most of the time Enjolras ended up in Combeferre’s room, just like everyone else did.

Enjolras had also found a somewhat unlikely friend in Feuilly. He’d always hated his parents for making him take piano lessons, but when he’d stumbled into one of the unoccupied music rooms, he’d started playing anyway and had kept coming back. One time Feuilly had walked in because he’d had to fix a broken window and had casually corrected a mistake Enjolras had made whilst playing. They’d started talking and Feuilly had told him that he’d taught himself how to play piano. And not only that.

Enjolras admired Feuilly for everything he’d accomplished, even though he kept insisting that he was _just the caretaker_. Enjolras took every possibility to tell him that he wasn’t. Feuilly was incredibly smart, he had an incredible amount of stories to tell and knew more languages than Enjolras could count on one hand, even though he was only in his early twenties.

That was why he often found himself visiting Feuilly in his office after his last class, and more than once he’d had encountered Grantaire lazing on Feuilly’s battered leather couch with his sketchbook in his lap. Every time it happened Feuilly told him to sit down and asked if he would like a cup of tea, and every time Enjolras insisted he’d come back some other time.

It wasn’t that he severely disliked Grantaire. He only disliked him a little bit. It didn’t annoy Enjolras that Grantaire was the snarkiest person he’d ever met, he could deal with snarky, he could also deal with the constant guitar playing he involuntarily got to listen to and the prolonged staring and teasing during art class, but what he absolutely couldn’t stand was the way Grantaire always interrupted his conversations with Combeferre and how he always contradicted every word he said.

A couple of days ago Enjolras had eventually snapped and had told him to keep his useless commentary to himself. Combeferre had given him a look, one of those Enjolras had come to know very well during the last couple of weeks, and Enjolras had felt a little bad, but not bad enough to apologise.

Grantaire hadn’t said a word to him ever since, which wasn’t unusual, because, yes, Grantaire always talked a lot, but never to Enjolras, unless it was to annoy him. He seemed to have taken Enjolras’ request quite seriously, though, and Enjolras couldn’t help but wonder if Grantaire was pouting. It certainly seemed like he was.

For some reason he couldn’t quite enjoy the silence, though, it was like something was missing from his days, but he pushed that thought as far back in his mind as possible.

He couldn’t care less about Grantaire.

And even though he didn’t care, he couldn’t help but notice that Grantaire seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet today. There was no obnoxiously loud music, no guitar playing, and no laughter. Then again, it was Friday evening, maybe he’d gone to the cinema with Bossuet, Bahorel and Eponine. He surely wasn’t in the library with Combeferre and Joly. He probably also wasn’t with Marius, who was quite possibly still stalking his sister, since he still hadn’t managed to say a word to her. Enjolras was so annoyed with him that he almost wished he’d make a move already, otherwise he’d have to have a word with Cosette himself.

Enjolras was almost starting to regret that he’d stayed home, mainly because he’d spent the last hour or so reading and responding to comments under articles he’d found interesting and was mildly, really only mildly agitated because he just couldn’t believe how daft some people were. He also couldn’t believe how daft some journalists were, but that was an entirely different story.

He closed his laptop, rolling his eyes one last time at nothing in particular, and got up to get himself something to eat from the common room. He was pretty sure he’d at least find some crisps or biscuits, because someone, and Enjolras still wasn’t sure who, seemed to make sure that they never ran out.

What he found when he walked down the hall, though, was Grantaire sitting in front of the closed common room door, his sketchbook in his lap as always, watching Enjolras approach in silence.

“What are you doing?” Enjolras asked, looking down at him, a bit confused.

“Shh,” Grantaire hissed and scrambled to his feet. “Courf and Jehan are in there watching a movie and I wanted to make sure they got a little privacy,” he whispered.

“So you decided to sit in front of the door?”

“Well, what else was I supposed to do, smartass?”

“You could have written a sign,” Enjolras said quietly.

Grantaire snorted. “Right, I’m sure Lamarque wouldn’t totally ignore that.”

Enjolras pursed his lips. Grantaire did have a point, but it wasn’t like he had to admit that.

“Did you need something?” Grantaire asked as he scrambled to his feet.

Enjolras noticed that his hair was particularly messy today, like a jet black cloud around his head.

“Earth to Enjolras,” Grantaire said, poking him in the ribs.

“Wh... what?”

Grantaire flashed him an amused smile. “Is there anything you need?”

“No,” Enjolras mumbled, but then remembered that he actually did want something. “Well, actually I was going to get something to eat, but I suppose you won’t let me.”

“Yeah, you’re damn right about that,” Grantaire confirmed, “but I have some chocolate in my room and I’m totally willing to share.”

“You are?” Enjolras asked suspiciously. Grantaire was being nice to him and he wasn’t quite sure what to think of that.

Grantaire shrugged. “Sure. Come on...”

“Don’t you have to...” Enjolras gestured at the door. “Keep watch.”

Grantaire scribbled something into his sketchbook, ripped out the page and placed it in front of the door. Enjolras caught a glimpse at it and saw that he’d written _Keep Out_ on it, then Grantaire mumbled, “That’ll do it for a couple of minutes,” and pulled him away and back down the hall.

“So, um, you stash chocolate in your room?” Enjolras asked as he followed Grantaire into his room, which surprisingly was a lot neater than his own, save for the drawings that were stuck on every free patch of wall.

Enjolras tried not to look at them too curiously, but he was pretty sure that he’d glimpsed a drawing of Jehan and one of Courfeyrac and Combeferre, and he somehow was almost sure that if he looked long enough, he’d maybe find one of himself.

Grantaire nodded and produced an impressive selection of chocolate bars from a drawer. “You know, just in case I feel like the common room’s too far away. Which happens a lot, actually.”

Enjolras took a Mars bar and thanked Grantaire a little more profusely than strictly necessary and found himself hovering in the doorway. In the four weeks he’d been here he hadn’t been able to uphold one normal conversation with Grantaire, and he was getting more and more curious.

He’d talked to all the others about every topic imaginable. He knew about Courfeyrac’s four sisters and that Joly wanted to become a doctor, that Bossuet’s name actually wasn’t Bossuet, what kind of jobs everyone’s parents had, what they liked to have for breakfast, and that it wasn’t a good idea to wake up Jehan before noon on Saturdays.

He barely knew anything about Grantaire. All they’d managed so far was to argue.

“Well,” Enjolras said, tapping his fingers against the doorframe, “what were you working on?”

“Oh, this?” Grantaire asked and held up his sketchbook. “I was just working on that art assignment... you know, a different interpretation of a classic painting and all that?”

“Ah, that.” Yes, Enjolras had conveniently forgotten about that. He still had time until the end of term, so he’d hopefully figure something out. He usually didn’t procrastinate, but he’d made an exception in this case.

Art class was, as predicted, torturous.

It was a two-hour lesson on Wednesday afternoon, which he usually spent staring at empty sheets of paper, trying not to strangle Grantaire, who sat at the table in front of him and who completed every task with so much ease that Enjolras was convinced that Grantaire must have sold his soul to possess this amount of talent.

Every time Grantaire was finished early, he turned around to watch Enjolras draw. And Enjolras hated it.

In their first lesson their teacher had handed out walnuts and told them to draw them. Enjolras had refrained from just eating it and walking out the door.

“You know, it looks a bit like a UFO,” Grantaire had said. “Or a lump of dirt?”

“No one asked you,” Enjolras had hissed.

“Maybe you should-”

Enjolras had nearly thrown one of his walnuts at him. “No one asked you,” he’d repeated sourly.

“Fine then, I’ll leave you to it.”

Enjolras had spent the rest of the lesson staring daggers at the back of Grantaire’s head.

“You don’t like art all that much, do you?” Grantaire asked now, his head tilted slightly.

“I have the skills of a first grader,” Enjolras deadpanned. “You might have noticed.”

Grantaire grinned smugly, as he did so often, and shrugged. “You’ll manage. He made the assignment vague enough so it’s not impossible for the people who aren’t there voluntarily. Like you. I mean, just draw the Mona Lisa in the style of a kindergartener or something.”

“Marvellous idea,” Enjolras grumbled.

“Just trying to help,” Grantaire said defensively.

“Yeah, that was incredibly helpful.”

 “Whatever, I better get back to my post.”

Grantaire tipped an invisible hat and pushed past him without another word. Enjolras went back to his room and spent the next fifteen minutes staring at the chocolate bar he’d got from Grantaire, completely lost in thought.

* * *

“Why do you think Grantaire doesn’t like me?” Enjolras asked the next day.

He was sitting on Combeferre’s bed, Combeferre was at his desk, finishing off an essay and Courfeyrac was curled up at Enjolras’ feet, playing a game on his phone.

Courfeyrac looked up for a second, his disbelief written plainly all over his face. “Ferre,” he only said and turned back to his phone.

Combeferre turned around with a sigh. “He does like you, Enjolras.”

“All he does is fight with me,” Enjolras protested. “I mean, I understand that we have nothing in common, but that doesn’t mean he has to be such an ass about it.”

He could hear Courfeyrac make a frustrated noise, but Enjolras wasn’t sure if it was because of him or because of the game he was playing.

“He’s not like that because he hates you, though,” Combeferre said firmly.

“Why then?”

“Because... well, you know what, maybe you should just talk to him.”

Enjolras huffed angrily, convinced that Combeferre only said that because he didn’t have a sufficient answer and Grantaire actually did hate his guts. Combeferre turned back to his essay, only to be interrupted again, this time by Courfeyrac.

“I should ask Jehan out on a date,” he said and put his phone down. “Right, Ferre?”

“Why are you asking me?” Combeferre muttered and turned back around.

“Aren’t you already... going out?” Enjolras asked. He wouldn’t have noticed, hadn’t he seen them making out leaning against Jehan’s door a couple of times already. They kept a polite distance in public, though, but Enjolras wasn’t quite sure for what reason. Maybe they thought they’d get in trouble. Maybe they weren’t sure how people would react. Anyway, it was none of his business.

Courfeyrac turned to him. “Sort of, yes. I mean, it’s a lot of making out and sneaking into each other’s rooms in the middle of the night, you know, that kind of stuff.”

“I...” Enjolras shook his head. Truth is, he didn’t _know_ , how would he, but he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted Courfeyrac to know about that. Courfeyrac talked about these things like others talked about the weather, with an ease that Enjolras had come to admire. Courfeyrac didn’t seem to be uncomfortable about anything and it was nearly impossible to be uncomfortable around him, which was probably why Enjolras eventually relented. “I don’t really know anything... about that sort of thing.”

“Nothing at all?” Courfeyrac asked, sounding as if he didn’t quite believe him.

“Not from personal experience,” Enjolras said, wondering if he was blushing as badly as he thought.

Courfeyrac only nodded, eyeing him expertly. “And why is that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, take Combeferre here,” Courfeyrac said, briefly glancing at Combeferre, who quickly nodded, like he was giving Courfeyrac permission to continue, “he just isn’t interested. At all. Ever. And then there’s Marius, for example, who’s never had a girlfriend because he’s too terrified to talk to girls and I’m too much of an ass to help him.”

“I see,” Enjolras mumbled, even though he wasn’t quite sure if he did. “Well, I suppose I’m not interested either...” he said eventually. But that wasn’t really true. He’d just found other things more interesting.

“But?” Combeferre prompted. Trust Combeferre to know that there was a _but_ coming.

“I don’t know, maybe I want to try... things.” God, he knew exactly why he never talked about these things, it was just too damn awkward. “I’m not sure, I was always really caught up in other things.”

“Well, if you want to, then maybe you should try. It’s your decision and I get that there’s not really much to pick from here, but there are a lot of nice girls...” Courfeyrac paused when Enjolras frowned. “And boys?” he added. “You might have a hard time with the boys, though, I mean I know Grantaire is... well, not opposed to guys, I know he had a thing with Jehan at the beginning of last year.”

“He did?” Enjolras asked, maybe sounding a little too interested. This didn’t concern him and he didn’t even know why he cared.

“It wasn’t serious or anything. And at some point I realised I liked Jehan... a lot. And I think Grantaire realised I did, too, and that’s why he sort of ended it, but you know, they’re still really good friends. They just get each other, they have to deal with the same issues, in a way.”

_What kind of issues_ , Enjolras wanted to ask, but he already felt a headache coming along and he thought that maybe now was a good time to change the topic, so he only nodded and leaned back against the wall, brooding.

Combeferre smiled at him, then he quickly glanced at Courfeyrac before he turned back around.

“Enjolras?” Courfeyrac said after they’d sat in silence for a while.

Enjolras looked up. “Yes?”

“We got your back, okay? Like... you know, some things just take a lot of figuring out... and we’re here, um, Combeferre and I... if you ever want to talk about anything. Yeah?”

Enjolras swallowed hard. “Yeah, thank you.”


	5. Chapter 5

“I’m going to ask him out.”

“Okay.”

“Not now, though.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not a good time.”

“Why not?”

“Because I say so,” Courfeyrac whined. “Can you at least try to be supportive?”

“I am being supportive,” Enjolras grumbled.

They were across the hall from their regular table, where Jehan and Grantaire were having an animated conversation. Courfeyrac was being unnecessarily difficult, at least as far as Enjolras was concerned, because asking someone out really couldn’t be that hard.

All you had to do was walk up to them and state your request and then you got a _yes_ or a _no_ as an answer. No big deal. Not worth the fuss Courfeyrac had been making for days.

“It’s not like he’s going to say no, right?” Enjolras muttered. Basically, they were dating already. He told Courfeyrac as much. “Just do it.”

“Later,” Courfeyrac said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Enjolras rolled his eyes, wondering why he was even trying. He’d somehow become Courfeyrac’s second advisor, Combeferre being his first, even though his advice consisted mostly of encouragements and nothing he said was helpful in the slightest. Combeferre was much better at advice, he usually came up with a multitude of options and worst-case-scenarios, and it was really quite fascinating.

“What are you boys looking at?”

“Oh, Cosette, how nice to see you,” Courfeyrac said, smiling at her happily. “Would you like to come have breakfast with us again?”

“If you tell me what you’re up to.” Cosette returned his smile and hooked her arm through Courfeyrac’s. “Because you definitely look like you’re up to something.”

“We’re just... looking,” Courfeyrac said, shrugging, “You know, enjoying the view. Finding someone for Enjolras to make out with.”

“We are not-”

“Good luck with that,” Cosette interrupted, grinning at Courfeyrac conspirationally. “You know, I’ve never tried, because he’d just say no to everyone I’d suggest.”

Courfeyrac chuckled. “I figured.”

“Don’t even try to ask him what he’s looking for.”

“Would you stop talking about me like I’m not here? Because I am. I can hear every word you’re saying. And I want you to stop.” Those two were getting along a little too well for his taste. He’d thought exactly the same thing when Cosette had come to visit them in their common room last Sunday. Those two together were nothing but trouble.

“Oh, Enjolras, don’t be like that, we’re just concerned for your well-being,” Cosette said and pinched his cheek. “Our parents would be delighted.”

“Yeah, they’ve been wondering why I haven’t brought home a nice girl so far,” Enjolras told Courfeyrac.

Cosette giggled. She knew all too well that Enjolras would never bring home a nice girl, or any girl, for that matter. He hadn’t even meant to tell her, he’d hardly thought about, it was just that Cosette had been ranting about some guy who’d asked her out and who hadn’t taken her refusal all too well.

“Who’d _you_ go out with?” she’d asked. “I mean, hypothetically, if you didn’t think dating was beneath you.”

“Not a girl, for starters,” Enjolras had said immediately. He knew he could trust Cosette to keep it a secret. He hadn’t even asked her to, those things just went without saying. “Other than that... I haven’t really thought about it.”

“You’d need someone who challenges you,” she’d mumbled, smiling knowingly, “otherwise you’d get really bored really quickly.”

Enjolras had remained silent, but had eventually found that he agreed.

“Have _you_ seen a nice lad around, Cosette?” Courfeyrac asked now, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’d love to be of help.”

“Not exactly,” Cosette said slowly.

“Well, luckily I know a table full of incredibly charming guys,” Courfeyrac told her and led her away. “Let’s get some breakfast.”

When Enjolras and Courfeyrac sat down at their table with Cosette, and Courfeyrac conveniently ushered Cosette into the chair next to Marius’, Enjolras was pretty sure that Marius was dying on the inside. At least going by the way he was trying to hide behind a bowl of cereal, his cheeks flaming red.

* * *

Enjolras was spending the evening in the common room for once, Combeferre on his left, Joly on his right, both of them trying to explain their chemistry homework to him, since they had already finished it, but Enjolras was still struggling to understand.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have the mental capacity to follow what both of his friends were saying, it was just that Grantaire and Bahorel were on the couch opposite of theirs, watching something on Bahorel’s phone, roaring with laughter, and it was distracting and he somehow wasn’t able to concentrate.

Bahorel left after a while, angrily muttering something about maths homework, but Grantaire remained exactly where he was, playing on his phone, fingers tapping away, a smile tugging at his lips every now and then.

It was astounding that Grantaire spent so little time doing his schoolwork, but still seemed to get one good mark after another. He was awfully smart and somehow that made Enjolras even angrier.

Enjolras didn’t realise he’d been staring until Grantaire looked up, his eyebrows raised. Enjolras quickly averted his gaze and tried to pay attention to what Joly was saying about hydrogen bonds.

Luckily, Courfeyrac showed up a couple of minutes later and sat down on Grantaire’s legs. Grantaire didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. “Guys, tell me I can do this,” Courfeyrac said to them.

“You can do this,” Combeferre and Grantaire said at the same time, Combeferre a little more enthusiastically than Grantaire, who barely even looked up from his phone.

“Do what?” Joly asked and flipped his chemistry book shut.

“I want to ask him out,” Courfeyrac whispered. “I don’t know how.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “You still haven’t done it?”

“Okay, first of all,” Courfeyrac said and got up, “that’s some crazy shit you can do with your eyebrow. Second of all,” he added and put his hands on either side of Enjolras’ face, “I need you to be supportive, Enjolras. Remember, we talked about that. Be supportive.”

“Okay,” Enjolras mumbled, “I’m being supportive.”

“Good,” Courfeyrac said and let go of him. “Tell me I can do this.”

Enjolras obliged. “You can do this.”

“Well, at least you managed to sound more excited than Grantaire,” Courfeyrac grumbled.

“That’s not really hard, is it?”

Grantaire let out a huff of breath. “So rude,” he whispered, “so hurtful. I’ll cry myself to sleep tonight.”

“Can we concentrate on the matter at hand, please?” Courfeyrac interrupted. “I have a real problem here.”

“You’re usually not this... hesitant,” Joly mused. “Remember what you told me once? Just go for it.”

“Well, this is not like all the other times. Anyway, you never just went for it, did you?”

“Courf, if you don’t do it, I will,” Grantaire piped up. “Honestly, it’s been a year, stop whining and do something.”

“I already _did something_. And really, you’re the one to talk,” Courfeyrac said, but quickly shut up when Grantaire bestowed him with a withering glance. “Right, I’ll go now.”

Grantaire and Joly erupted in cheers as he strode out of the room, Combeferre and Enjolras silently shared a look. They’d listened to Courfeyrac go on about this for what felt like ages, and Enjolras was pretty sure that Combeferre never got impatient or tired of listening to anyone talking about their problems, but Enjolras was, and had always been, in favour of getting things done as quickly and as efficiently as possible.

Since they didn’t see Courfeyrac again that evening and also didn’t come across Jehan, Enjolras was hoping that Courfeyrac had finally gone through with his plan.

* * *

Enjolras had meant to go to bed early that night and he’d actually started drifting off to sleep when he heard the soft sounds of someone plucking at the strings of a guitar.

Enjolras groaned and checked his alarm clock. It was well past midnight. Couldn’t Grantaire just go to sleep at a reasonable hour like everyone else? Or could he at least be quiet? Enjolras often stayed up late to finish his homework, but at least he didn’t feel the need to play obnoxious folk songs in the middle of the night to keep everyone else up, too.

He listened for a while, and it wasn’t the first time that he was consciously doing so, because Grantaire really was talented, and the songs he played weren’t even all that bad, but Enjolras was tired, too, and no matter how soothing the tunes Grantaire was playing were, they kept Enjolras awake.

Sighing heavily, Enjolras slowly got up and padded to the door.

When he knocked on Gantaire’s door, the music stopped and a confused Grantaire appeared, looking at Enjolras as if he was some kind of apparition. Belatedly, Enjolras realised that he probably looked like a mess, with his pyjamas and his hair loosely tumbling down his shoulders.

“Enjolras?” he whispered, looking up and down the dark hallway. “Something wrong?”

“I was just wondering if you could maybe stop with the guitar playing. Because I really want to sleep and it’s sort of... keeping me awake.”

“My apologies,” Grantaire said dramatically and curtsied.

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Enjolras said quickly. “I mean, you’re-”

“It’s fine, Enjolras, I’ll stop,” Grantaire mumbled, “Just go back to bed.”

And with that he shut the door in Enjolras’ face.

Enjolras blinked once, twice, then he shuffled back to his room and fell back into bed. Grantaire was blessedly silent now, and yet, Enjolras couldn’t sleep.

Somehow, Grantaire chose to see the worst in him and thought Enjolras was always out to pick on him, which simply wasn’t true. Grantaire was just incredibly good at provoking him, every word he said had a cynical touch to it, and Enjolras just couldn’t help but talk back at him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be friends with Grantaire, he just didn’t know how. He didn’t know how to be friends with someone who was so different from him, everyone else at least shared his views and didn’t tell him that whatever plan he’d come up with to make a change was futile. They weren’t cynical and dismissive and absolutely infuriating.

Enjolras sighed and buried his face in his pillow.

Fretting about Grantaire wouldn’t help him go to sleep.

* * *

“You look tired,” Combeferre said lowly. “Is something wrong?”

Enjolras did appreciate Combeferre’s concern, but he just wanted everyone to leave him alone. He hadn’t slept nearly as long as he’d wanted to and he was cranky and he didn’t want to take it out on other people. “I’m fine,” he muttered and kept on stirring the remains of his cereal.

He noticed that Courfeyrac was watching them, his eyes worried.

“Really,” Enjolras insisted, looking at Courfeyrac this time. “No need to worry. I just didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

“We just don’t want you to be uncomfortable here, you know, you’re not the first new guy and being away from home isn’t easy for some people and I know we’re all fantastic, but yeah...” He trailed off and smiled. “We just want you to feel at home here.”

Enjolras didn’t have the heart to tell him that he’d never felt at home anywhere, so he only nodded.

“Let’s take him to the lake later on,” Courfeyrac said to Combeferre. “We’ve never taken him and he’s been here for weeks.”

“What lake?” Enjolras asked. He’d never heard anyone mention a lake, only swimming pool break-ins.

“Oh, it’s on the grounds, it’s not big or anything, but they still don’t like it when we go down there after dark, you know, so we’d have to go straight after our last lesson. Unless you have other plans?” Combeferre said, directing that last question at Courfeyrac.

“Oh no, Jehan and I are going out tomorrow,” Courfeyrac said nonchalantly, right before a broad grin spread across his face. “Because we’re going out on a date. Just the two of us. I just have to talk to Lamarque, you know how he gets when I want to stay out late.”

“Well, he has a good reason for that,” Combeferre told him.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Marius said – too cheerfully for this time of day – and flopped onto the chair next to Courfeyrac.

Combeferre smiled. “I was just reminding Courfeyrac of the time he, Grantaire, Joly and Bossuet missed the last bus back to school and they were stuck in town and had to call Lamarque to come pick them up.”

“Oh, that,” Marius said, nodding, and turned his attention to the heap of scrambled eggs and ham on his plate.

“We didn’t do it on purpose,” Courfeyrac said to Enjolras, “it just sort of happened.”

“The more stories you guys tell me, the more surprised I am that you all haven’t been expelled yet,” Enjolras said.

Courfeyrac shrugged. “Well, our parents pay a lot of money to keep us in this school.”

Marius nodded in agreement, the smile on his face never faltering.

“Why are you so happy?” Courfeyrac asked suspiciously.

Enjolras instantly knew that this was about his sister when Marius’ eyes quickly darted from Courfeyrac to him and back again.

“She talked to me,” he whispered. It was still loud enough for Enjolras to hear, though.

“What did she say?” Courfeyrac whispered back, even louder.

Enjolras sighed deeply, knowing that there was no way he was going to escape this.

“She asked if I could hand her a piece of toast,” Marius said excitedly.

“Oh my god, so romantic,” Courfeyrac cooed.

 “Stop making fun of me, she has basically acknowledged my existence.”

“She’s had breakfast with us a couple of times already, how would she not know that you exist?” Enjolras threw in, mildly confused. He was pretty sure that Cosette was well aware of Marius’ existence. Also because Courfeyrac was doing his best to always have them ending up sitting next to each other whenever possible. It probably wouldn’t take long until he _accidentally_ locked them in a closet.

“But that’s different,” Marius said, pouting.

 “Good morning, everyone, I just have some letters for you.” Enjolras hadn’t even seen Lamarque coming and jumped a little when he set down a small parcel on the table right in front of Courfeyrac’s nose. “From your mother, I believe,” Lamarque mused, “and this one is for you, Marius... and Enjolras, here’s a letter for you.”

Enjolras took the letter from him, suddenly feeling uneasy. Why would he get a letter? He immediately recognised his mother’s handwriting, but why would she write to him now?

He knew why. It must be something she couldn’t say over the phone. She’d called him only a few days ago, just to ask how he was doing, if he liked the school, if he’d made friends, then there was some meaningless small talk, some stories about people Enjolras didn’t care about in the slightest, and so on.

She hadn’t mentioned anything that would have indicated that something was wrong. But something clearly _was_ wrong. And deep down he knew exactly what this was about.

He felt sick, he felt like he couldn’t physically bring himself to open this letter, he didn’t want to read this, even though he knew what it contained, he refused to accept it as the truth.

“Enjolras?” Combeferre mumbled and nudged him gently.

“I’ll just...” Enjolras grabbed his letter and stood up. “I’ll just go outside for a second.”


	6. Chapter 6

Enjolras walked straight outside, almost crumpling the letter between his fingers. He sat down on a bench in the courtyard, which was completely empty, since everyone else was still having breakfast or already on their way to their first class of the day.

He took a deep breath, then he ripped open the envelope and slowly read his mother’s letter. Her handwriting was shaky, as it always was when she’d had too much to drink, the colour of her pen changed halfway through as if she hadn’t been able to finish it at once. Enjolras could understand why.

When he reached the part where the writing was smudged in places he stopped.

“What are you doing out here?”

Enjolras sighed. Grantaire was really the last person he wanted to deal with right now. “Leave me alone.”

He heard Grantaire’s footsteps approaching on the gravel. “Everything okay?” Grantaire asked curiously.

“None of your business, just go away.”

“You can-”

“I said leave me alone,” Enjolras hissed as he stood up.

“Whoa there, no need to be so sensitive.”

Enjolras hadn’t meant to, but he was pissed off, and had absolutely no patience for any of Grantaire’s bullshit, so he’d given him a little shove.

Grantaire stumbled backwards, frowning, then he shoved right back. “Oh, I see how it is,” Grantaire mumbled, “please don’t hold back, show me how you really feel.”

Enjolras huffed angrily. “I’ve never done anything to you, what’s your problem?”

“What’s my problem? What’s _your_ problem, you pretentious ass.”

Another shove, then another one, and soon his hands were fisted in Grantaire’s shirt, and Grantaire’s hand was holding on to the lapel of his blazer, trying to unbalance him. He eventually succeeded and they landed on the damp grass, still wrestling.

“What’s going on here?”

Enjolras let go of Grantaire immediately. Javert was looking down at them, bristling with anger.

“Nothing,” Grantaire said, sounding incredibly unconvincing. He scrambled to his feet and Enjolras followed his example, making an attempt at straightening his clothes.

“Well, Grantaire, looks like you’re in for another visit with the headmaster. And you as well, Enjolras.” Javert looked terribly self-satisfied. “Follow me,” he said.  

“We didn’t-” Enjolras tried, but Javert only shook his head.

Enjolras picked up his letter, which had landed on the ground and was now stained with mud, and shoved it into his pocket, glaring at Grantaire all the while. At least he had the decency to look a little bit guilty.

Slowly, they followed Javert back inside and up the stairs to Valjean’s office.

“Wait here,” Javert told them, waving at the chairs outside the office and marched past Valjean’s secretary without another word.

Enjolras didn’t look at Grantaire. He very much wanted to tell him what a stupid idiot he was, but he didn’t think it very wise to start another fight right outside the headmaster’s office.

He wasn’t quite sure what to expect either, because Valjean had never seemed as strict or as terrifying as Javert, but he was the headmaster after all, so he wouldn’t just let this go. He was probably in for a few days of detention. With Grantaire. Just what he needed.

Enjolras spent the time until Javert reappeared staring down at his mud-covered jeans.

“The headmaster would like a word with both of you,” Javert said, smiling smugly.

Enjolras stood up, not without glaring at Grantaire one more time, before he walked into Valjean’s office. Valjean was behind his desk, looking more curious than angry, which Enjolras took as a good sign. He heard the door click shut behind him, then Grantaire was beside him.

“Enjolras, Grantaire, why don’t you take a seat,” Valjean said, gesturing at the two chairs in front of his desk.

They did, neither of them saying a word.

“Monsieur Javert tells me you have been fighting.”

Again, both of them remained silent.

“Well?” Valjean promted.

“We only had a bit of a disagreement,” Enjolras said, hoping he was sounding diplomatic and not like he wanted to rip off Grantaire’s head. “It was nothing.”

“Exactly,” Grantaire said quickly.

“I’m glad you both agree on something now,” Valjean mused. “And what was that disagreement about?”

Enjolras glanced at Grantaire, who didn’t seem to be sure what to say, so he spoke up again. “Just a misunderstanding.”

Grantaire nodded. “Yeah, that.”

“Well, I suppose you boys are old enough to work that out on your own. However, I have to remind you that we have rules at this school and I don’t want to hear anyone tell me about the two of you fighting again. You live on the same floor, and even if you have differences, I trust you will keep those in check in the future. I can’t force you to talk to each other, but I very much advise you to do so. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” Grantaire mumbled.

“Absolutely,” Enjolras said, nodding. He had no intention to talk to Grantaire about anything at all, but Valjean didn’t need to know that.

“I would also like to remind you that if you have problems, Monsieur Lamarque will be happy to listen, and I will be happy to listen. You’re not on your own.” He paused, giving each of them a stern look. “Now, Grantaire, is there anything you’d like to say to Enjolras?”

Grantaire hesitated only for a second. “I’m sorry.”

“Enjolras?” Valjean prompted.

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras echoed.

“Now,” Valjean continued, “you’ll understand that I can’t let this go unpunished. As I said, we do have rules. Grantaire, you are familiar with this. Enjolras, I’m sure you know our caretaker, Feuilly. He’s always in need of help, and assisting him is more useful than having you copying lines in a classroom, so I’ll let him know that the two of you will be waiting for him in his office tomorrow after breakfast.”

“But-” Grantaire started, suddenly jolting upright.

“Yes, Grantaire, I’m aware that tomorrow is Saturday. I do not care. No off you go to class.”

Enjolras walked outside without uttering a word of complaint, but was caught by the elbow by Grantaire as soon as they were out in the hallway.

“What?” Enjolras snapped. “Do you want to start another fight?”

“Okay, just so we’re clear, I didn’t start _anything_ ,” Grantaire hissed. “Stop pretending that this is my fault.”

“But it _is_.”

“Yeah, whatever makes you feel better,” Grantaire muttered and walked off.

Enjolras followed, because they were both headed for Lamarque’s classroom. When they entered, Lamarque was already there, patiently waiting for them to take a seat. Combeferre shot him a questioning glance when Enjolras slid into his chair.

Enjolras only shook his head. He’d tell him later. Maybe. Actually, he didn’t want to talk about it at all.

He tried to concentrate on what Lamarque was saying, but couldn’t, because he felt like the letter he’d got was burning a hole into his pocket.

* * *

“So, what happened with you and Grantaire?” Courfeyrac asked conversationally.

As promised, Combeferre and Courfeyrac were taking him down to the lake, which was located just behind the football field. It was nice outside, not too cold, a light breeze scattering colourful leaves across the lawn.

“We fought,” Enjolras mumbled as they sat down at the water’s edge.

“Why?” Combeferre asked. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t even know why, he was being a dick, and I suppose I was... I don’t know, a little irritated.”

“Because of that letter you got?” Of course Combeferre had noticed. There was nothing that escaped him.

Enjolras only nodded.

“You don’t have to tell us,” Combeferre said slowly.

“But we’re happy to listen if you want to,” Courfeyrac added.

Enjolras watched the ripples on the surface of the lake for a few long moments. “My parents are getting divorced,” he said eventually.

“Oh, shit.”

“That was really helpful, Courf,” Combeferre mumbled. “I’m really sorry, Enjolras.”

Enjolras shrugged. “I’ve sort of... seen that coming for a while. I’m pretty sure that’s one of the reasons they sent us here. So we weren’t around.”

Courfeyrac didn’t make another attempt at saying anything again, he just pulled Enjolras against his chest instead, slowly patting his back. If it had been anyone else, Enjolras probably would have pushed them away, but Courfeyrac was good at this, and even though it didn’t make him feel much better, he did relax a little.

He’d have to talk to Cosette, too, later on. He was pretty sure that she’d received a similar letter, and he shouldn’t be here right now, he should have gone straight to her, but he’d needed a little time to think.

His parents had always argued a lot, and it had never bothered him, at least not much, he’d just seen it as something that adults did, just to clear the air, and then they went back to the way everything had been before.  

As he’d grown older, though, he’d realised that all the fights had driven his mother to find other coping mechanisms than her book club and her society groups and her charity events, that her glasses of wine had become fuller, that once his father had suspected him of stealing a bottle of Brandy, that she fell asleep on the living room sofa, with an empty glass on the table next to her when his father had been out late – at work, Enjolras had thought at first, but not anymore. He’d helped her to bed, then, Cosette waiting for him at the foot of the stairs to give him a hug and to tell him that everything was going to be alright.  

“So, you and Grantaire got into a fight because he was acting like an insensitive shit, huh?” Courfeyrac asked, immediately loosening his grip when Enjolras tried to sit up.

“Not really. I just told him to leave me alone and he wouldn’t.”

“He was probably just trying to help,” Combeferre mused.

Enjolras frowned. “Are you on his side?”

“There are no sides, Enjolras,” Combeferre said seriously. “Grantaire is a decent guy.”

Courfeyrac nodded in agreement. “He just has a weird way of showing it sometimes.”

“Yes, getting me into detention really is a weird way of showing it,” Enjolras grumbled.

Courfeyrac chuckled. “Oh man, detention with Feuilly really isn’t that bad, though. Trust me, I would know.”

Well, Enjolras really hadn’t been worrying about having to spend the day with Feuilly.

* * *

Enjolras had gone to Cosette’s room after they’d returned from the lake and she, too, had only wrapped her arms around him and hugged him for a long, long time. And maybe it had been more for her own benefit than for his, but he hadn’t really cared.

Her friends had come to drag her away to dinner soon enough before they’d had time to talk about it much and Enjolras retreated to his own room. He hadn’t really felt like eating. Or talking to people. Or seeing Grantaire.

He’d taken a shower while everyone else had been gone, and now he was sitting on his bed in his pyjamas, staring at his phone, contemplating calling his mother, but he had no idea what he would say to her. _Please reconsider?_ It wasn’t like there was anything he could do, there wasn’t anything his mother could say to make him feel better about all of this, even though he was sure she would try. And that would make it even worse.

There was a knock on his door. Enjolras chose to ignore it.

Another knock.

“What?” Enjolras called grumpily.

The door opened and Jehan appeared, holding a plate with a sandwich on it. “You missed dinner,” he whispered. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“I’m not,” Enjolras mumbled, watching as Jehan walking inside, closed the door and set the plate down on his bedside table.

“Well, you might be later.” Jehan sat down at his feet, legs crossed, the sleeves of his jumper pulled over his hands. “I hardly ate anything for weeks when my parents got divorced. Thought I was being rebellious when I was really just giving them another thing to worry about.”

Enjolras bit his lip and took half of the sandwich. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to be alone?” Jehan asked, his tone carefully neutral.

Enjolras shook his head, so Jehan leaned back and reached over to undo Enjolras’ bun. Enjolras remained completely still while Jehan plaited his hair into a fishtail braid, talking to him as he did.

“It’s going to be weird at first, spending time with only one of them, only seeing the other on weekends, watching them get married again. And again. And – if they’re like my dad – _again_.” He shrugged. “Anyway, don’t ever think that any of it is your fault.”

Enjolras nodded. That thought would never even occur to him. “I just... I mean, what happens now?”

“Well, in my case, my dad moved out. He moved in with his girlfriend, actually.”

“My father might do the same,” Enjolras mumbled. “Although I’m not sure what’s going to happen to my mum.”

Jehan brushed a few stray strands of his hair out of the way. “I suppose you’re going to have to decide which one of them you want to stay with.”

“My father might file for sole custody.” If he did, it was going to get ugly.

They’d argued about that a lot – that his mother couldn’t possibly take care of him and Cosette when she was behaving the way she did, when she was drunk by the time they got back from school. And sure, he’d been right, but at least his mother had cared.

His father had only ever paid attention to him when he’d got another call from Enjolras’ school. Then he’d spared a couple of minutes to yell at him.

“Maybe it’s for the best that you’re not around,” Jehan mumbled.

“Yeah... maybe.”

“How’s Cosette?”

“I don’t know, her friends whisked her away before I could talk to her, but she’s tough, she’s been through worse.”

Jehan gave him a small smile. “It’s okay to be upset, you know? They’re your family.”

“A pretty crappy family, though.”

“Still,” Jehan mumbled. “Now, how about we go to the common room and watch a film with the others.”

Enjolras shook his head. “I’d rather stay here. It was a long day.”

“Maybe tomorrow, then.”

Enjolras nodded. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I suck at replying to comments, but please don't think I don't appreciate them, they make me really happy, so thank you for those!


	7. Chapter 7

Enjolras dragged himself out of bed the next morning, pulled on clothes at random and didn’t bother brushing his hair – he just left it in the now messy braid Jehan had done the day before, strands coming loose here and there. He didn’t bother with breakfast either. He just walked straight to Feuilly’s office, which was empty, so Enjolras sat down on the sofa to wait for him to show up.

Grantaire appeared in the doorway only a few minutes later and for a second it looked like he wanted to turn around and leave again, but he eventually walked in, shoulders slumped, and sat down next to him, holding out a croissant wrapped in a napkin. “Jehan is worried about you,” he mumbled and tried to hand it to him.

Enjolras didn’t take it, even though he did appreciate the concern. “I’m not hungry.”

“Come on,” Grantaire said and ripped off a bit, “just a bite. Feuilly’s gonna have us cleaning windows all day or some shit, you don’t want to do that on an empty stomach.”

Enjolras sullenly took a bite, staring daggers at Grantaire all the while as he finished the croissant.

“You’re still pissed at me, huh?” Grantaire mused. “I mean, I get it, I’m a bit of an ass occasionally. I really didn’t mean to-”

Grantaire didn’t get to finish, though, and Enjolras didn’t actually care the rest of what he had to say either, he only paid attention to Feuilly, who’d just come in. “I honestly wouldn’t have expected to see you here so soon, Enjolras.” Feuilly perched himself on his desk, grinning at the two of them. “You know, I’m a bit curious as to what you did to end up here on a Saturday. Haven’t seen any of you kids here since they caught you breaking into the swimming pool.”

“Just a little wresting match,” Grantaire said, a lopsided grin spreading on his face. “Nothing serious.”

“Ah, I see. Valjean asked me to have you work together. Makes sense now.” Feuilly moved to the door, beckoning them to come with him. “Well, follow me.” He led them downstairs, whistling as they descended into the basement.

It was cold down there. It felt a bit like a dungeon, actually, and Enjolras shivered.

Throwing a door open and flicking the lights on, Feuilly pointed at a stack of long, flat cardboard boxes. “New bookshelves for the library. I hope you speak IKEA.”

“Fluently,” Grantaire said cheerfully.

“I’ll leave you boys to it, I don’t think you actually need supervision, so please do us all a favour and don’t kill each other, okay?”

Enjolras nodded, although he’d been hoping that Feuilly wouldn’t leave him alone with Grantaire. Because spending hours on end with only Grantaire for company was extremely far from ideal. They’d start fighting in no time, he was sure.

“So, Enjolras,” Grantaire said, gesturing at the boxes, “ever had the pleasure?”

“I can’t say I’m skilled in that department,” Enjolras admitted, and opened the first one of the boxes. He was greeted by a mess of wooden boards and screws and an instruction manual he absolutely couldn’t make sense of.

Grantaire took it from him, studied it for a minute of two, nodding expertly, then he started arranging the boards on the carpet that was spread out on the tiled floor.

Enjolras stood by, watching him, feeling useless. “Anything I can do?”

“Yeah, sort these,” Grantaire said and handed him a little plastic bag full of screws.

Enjolras quickly got frustrated when he started helping Grantaire to put everything together, simply because the furniture wouldn’t cooperate and Grantaire kept bossing him around. He really didn’t like being bossed around, and he told Grantaire as much.

“Poor little baby isn’t in charge for once,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes. “Cry me a river.”

Enjolras scowled. “Would it kill you not to act like a complete asshole for once?”

“Well, who’s acting like an asshole now, Enjolras?” Grantaire snapped. “Honestly, it’s a little ironic that you keep going on and on about creating a better world for the people and all that crap, but you’re so caught up in your rich-boy-bubble, you don’t even know what real life is like. I mean, look at you, you want to be in charge of this, but you don’t even know how to put together a fucking shelf.”

“It’s better than your ‘nothing matters and everything is useless’ attitude.” Anyway, who was Grantaire to talk? His family wasn’t exactly poor either, Enjolras was sure.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “At least I’m not fucking deluded.”

“I’m not deluded.”

“Of course you are.”

“Okay guys, that’s enough,” Feuilly interrupted from the door. “Keep it down, I don’t want Javert to come creeping down here and complain about the noise. I doubt you’d want him to drag you back to Valjean’s office.”

Enjolras pursed his lips. “I didn’t start this.”

“No, he didn’t, it’s all my fault, everything that went wrong in his life is my fault, I’m-”

“Grantaire, cut it out,” Feuilly grumbled. “I’ll get you some pizza for lunch, is that okay?”

“Are you getting us _good_ pizza?” Grantaire asked, wiggling his eyebrows at Feuilly.

Feuilly grinned. “If you promise to be good for the rest of the... two and a half shelves you still have to put up.”

“You know me, I’ll do anything for pizza,” Grantaire said, batting his eyelashes, “I’ll even tolerate Enjolras.”

Feuilly nodded, bestowed them both with a stern glance, then he disappeared.

“Well, thank you so much for tolerating me,” Enjolras said gruffly.

“The pizza is worth it,” Grantaire mumbled and handed Enjolras a handful of screws. “Hold on to these for me.”

“Why is that pizza so special anyway?” Enjolras asked.

“Hm, a civil conversation about pizza, don’t you think we’re going to start arguing about toppings halfway through?”

“Yeah, you’re right, let’s just glare at each other for the rest of the day.”

“Fine, so there’s this really amazing Italian restaurant in town, and they just have the most amazing pizza,” Grantaire told him, “I’m pretty sure that’s where Courf is taking Jehan tonight, he always says it makes him think of home.”

Enjolras must have looked incredibly confused, because Grantaire laughed and explained. “His grandmother is from Italy, you know?”

“I actually didn’t know that.”

“He has a huge family. Some of them still live somewhere near Venice, I think, but most of them are here. He’s told about his sisters, right?”

“Yeah, he has.” Enjolras watched Grantaire work for a while, considering his options. He could submit to awkward silence or he could actually turn this into a conversation. He bit his lip. “What about your family?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Apparently my great-great-grandfather, give or take a few greats, was Italian, too.”

“And do you still have family there?”

“Nope, at least none that I know of. I do have relatives in Switzerland and Germany, though. And my sister goes to college in America and I suppose she’s going to stay there. It’s better than coming back here in any case.”

“ _Here_ as in here where your family lives?”

“Obviously,” Grantaire muttered. “My family is crap. But we’re all here because our families are crap, aren’t we?”

Enjolras shrugged. “I suppose.” His own family was pretty much the last thing he wanted to talk about right now. He didn’t even want to think about his family. Or his parents’ divorce or anything that had to do with home.

“Right, now that we’ve exhausted that topic...” Grantaire said as he took some of the screws Enjolras was holding – which was the only thing he seemed to be allowed to do now, except for the occasional _hold this_ and _hold that_ and _keep that steady_ – and finished putting together yet another shelf, “Well, how do you like it here so far?”

“Well, the way they definite detention here is a little strange,” Enjolras said quietly as he helped Grantaire push the shelf into an upright position, “but except for that... I like it well enough.”

“Have you been to town yet?” Grantaire asked and opened another cardboard box.

Enjolras shook his head. “Not yet.”

“You should come with us next weekend.”

“Maybe. I’m not a big fan of... going out and all that.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

“You spend a lot of time in your room,” Grantaire said slowly.

“Oh.”

“Not that it’s a bad thing, we were just starting to wonder if you don’t like us or if you’re just a bit of a hermit.” Grantaire smiled his lopsided smile again, and it actually seemed genuine.

Once again, Enjolras didn’t know what to say, and quite frankly it was starting to unsettle him a bit, because he _always_ knew what to say, he was _never_ lost for words. Unless he was talking to Grantaire.

“I like your hair, by the way,” Grantaire said and lightly tugged at his messy braid. “Did Jehan braid it for you?”

“Yes, I couldn’t do that on my own.”

“It’s pretty damn hard,” Grantaire agreed, “Jehan taught me how to do it a while ago, it took me forever to get the hang of it.

“Yeah, I don’t see you with braided hair a lot,” Enjolras said, flashing Grantaire a smile.

“Oh wow, you _do_ have a sense of humour, who would have thought.”

“I just hide it well,” Enjolras deadpanned.

Grantaire barked out a laugh. “I see.”

Feuilly reappeared again soon enough, watching them with amusement. “Oh, look at you two, still alive and almost finished,” he said happily, “I’m so proud of you.”

Enjolras snorted. “Well, we’re not done yet, we still have a little time to kill each other.”

“He’s not wrong,” Grantaire agreed.

Feuilly slowly shook his head. “Lunch in my office,” he only said and turned around to leave.

Grantaire sighed, dropped everything and scrambled to his feet. Enjolras looked up at him, frowning. “Shouldn’t we finish this first?”

“And eat cold pizza for lunch? I don’t think so,” Grantaire said and held out his hand for Enjolras. “Come on.”

Enjolras took his hand reluctantly and let Grantaire pull him to his feet. They walked up to Feuilly’s office in silence and were handed paper plates with huge slices of pizza on them as soon as they entered.

“So, am I going to tell Valjean that you guys are best friends now and that he doesn’t have anything to worry about?” Feuilly asked conversationally, but was looking at them rather seriously.

“Please do, he’ll be delighted that his strange methods to get people to reconcile are actually effective,” Grantaire said and helped himself to another slice of pizza. “Tell him Enjolras didn’t try to hit me again.”

Enjolras nearly choked on a bite of pizza. “I-”

“Don’t even try to deny it, you totally wanted to,” Grantaire said and elbowed him in the ribs. “Here, have some more pizza.”

“What even happened?” Feuilly asked, only looking mildly concerned. “Did you just fancy a wrestling match?”

“Basically,” Grantaire said dryly.

“Okay, don’t tell me, that’s fine.” Feuilly did look at least a little amused now, but he quickly turned serious again. “It’s just... I know you boys and you might have your differences, but that’s no reason to-”

“We know,” Grantaire interrupted. “It won’t happen again.”

“We promise,” Enjolras added. He knew he’d been stupid to overreact as he had, he knew Grantaire hadn’t meant any harm, he knew that he’d been too upset to think rationally, so yes, it really wouldn’t happen again.

Feuilly nodded. “I’d rather see you coming here voluntarily. By the way, Grantaire, the drama group asked if I could help them with their sets again, are you going to help me with that?”

“Ah, Courfeyrac asked me about that a couple of days ago, I already told him I’d help.”

Enjolras listened to their animated conversation about last year’s play and lighting and colours and hues and brushes, mildly confused. Art really wasn’t his forte and he knew next to nothing about theatre. His mother had taken him and Cosette every now and then – the first time Enjolras had fallen asleep, the second time he’d complained all the way home, the third time they’d gone without him.

He’d told Courfeyrac as much when he’d tried to get him to join the drama group a few weeks ago. Courfeyrac hadn’t been surprised, not exactly, he’d even told him that Lamarque had put him up to it, even though extracurricular activities weren’t a must, but they definitely were encouraged.

Enjolras was quite content with spending his free time reading or going to one of the music rooms. Or picking apart newspaper articles with Combeferre.

“Enjolras, how do you like the pizza?”

Enjolras’ head snapped up. He hadn’t even realised that Feuilly and Grantaire had stopped talking. “It’s very good, thank you.”

They finished the rest of the pizza in silence, then Feuilly sighed. “Alright, listen, why don’t you just... go. Do whatever it is you kids do. I’ll take care of the last shelf.”

Grantaire gave Feuilly the brightest smile Enjolras had ever seen. “Have I ever told you how wonderful you are?”

“Get out of here,” Feuilly said with a roll of his eyes. “Enjolras, do you have a minute?”

Enjolras nodded, ignoring the curious glance Grantaire shot him before he walked out the door. “Is something wrong?” Enjolras asked slowly.

“Look,” Feuilly started and sat down next to him on the sofa, “I know being a teenager sucks, and I know being at boarding school isn’t easy either. I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but I see that you’re a decent kid and I’ve known Grantaire ever since he first came here, and I know that he’s not easy to deal with sometimes, but he’s a decent kid, too, and he wouldn’t just start a fight over nothing.”

Enjolras bit his lip. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t mean to...”

“I know that, too. But I’m not the one you should be telling this. Grantaire spends a lot of time here, I’m sure you’ve noticed. He talks about you sometimes and he’s convinced that you absolutely despise him, which I’m sure is not the case. And he wouldn’t let on that it bugs him, but I’m fairly sure that it does, so would you do me a favour and talk to him?”

“What am I supposed to say?” Enjolras asked. “I just don’t know how to talk to him. It’s... frustrating.”

“Once you get past that frustrating part, you’ll find that Grantaire is a very good listener and a very good friend as well. He cares about people, he just does an incredibly good job at hiding it.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

“Maybe it’s about time you listened.”

Enjolras sighed. “I’ll talk to him,” he said quietly. “Later.”

“Better late than never,” Feuilly said cheerfully and patted him on the back. “Thank you for your help today.”

Enjolras took that as permission for him to leave. Instead of going back to his room or to the common room, where he’d undoubtedly be met with sympathetic glances, because he was pretty sure that by now everyone knew about his parents’ divorce, he went to one of the empty music rooms.

He sat down at the piano there, playing from memory, reminded of one of his first recitals that his mother had talked him into doing. His father hadn’t made it, but his mother had been very, very proud.

There was a knock at the door and Enjolras stopped playing immediately. There were two other empty rooms and he didn’t see why anyone would bother him. “Yeah?” he called.

The door opened and Grantaire poked his head inside. “I thought I’d find you here.”

“What do you want?” Enjolras asked gruffly.

Grantaire walked inside and closed the door behind him. “I just wanted to... apologise. Or something like that. I mean, I realise I should have left you alone when you asked me to.” He sat down next to Enjolras. “You looked sad, I just wanted to help.”

“I’m sorry I lashed out,” Enjolras mumbled.

Grantaire nodded. “You know, if you want to... um, talk... about whatever is going on,” Grantaire muttered, then he shrugged, “I mean, I’m probably the last person you want to talk to, but if everyone else is busy or something, you can... we can... talk.”

“You already know what’s going on anyway, don’t you?”

“Actually, I don’t,” Grantaire mumbled. “Well, I have to go see how Jehan’s doing, he’s probably freaking out about his date with Courfeyrac.”

Enjolras only nodded.

Grantaire remained sitting next to him for a few long seconds before he got up and walked to the door. “It was nice not arguing for once today.”

“It was,” Enjolras agreed. He wondered if this counted as properly talking to Grantaire as he’d promised Feuilly, but somehow he thought he’d have to make a bit more of an effort. He stared down at the keys of the piano for a long while without playing anything, then he followed Grantaire.


	8. Chapter 8

Enjolras walked back upstairs to their floor, knowing Grantaire was probably with Jehan. He found the common room empty, but he could hear laughter behind Combeferre’s door. He did contemplate joining them instead of finding Grantaire, because, really, what was he thinking? That after a day of somewhat getting along they’d suddenly have things to talk about? That they’d be friends now?

He stood motionless in front of Jehan’s door for an embarrassingly long time before he took a deep breath and knocked. It only took seconds for Jehan to yank the door open, blinking at him in confusion. “Enjolras,” he said, a smile flitting over his face, “come in.” He took him by the hand and pulled him inside.

Jehan’s room was cluttered. He probably owned more books than Combeferre did, writings and pictures were taped to the walls – Enjolras recognised some of Grantaire’s drawings amongst them – and his bed was overflowing with pillows and blankets. And Grantaire was lounging amidst them, his expression curious.

“Already done playing piano?” Grantaire asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I… well, I thought…” He trailed off, biting his lip. How did this always happen around Grantaire? “I can leave again, I don’t want to intrude.”

“No,” Jehan said immediately and pushed him towards the bed. “You stay right here. Come on, sit down.”

Grantaire quickly scooted to the side to make space for him, but since Jehan squeezed himself onto the bed as well, Enjolras ended up right next to him anyway.

“How are you?” Jehan asked and patted his knee. “Grantaire said detention wasn’t too bad.”

“It’s never bad with Feuilly,” Grantaire mumbled. “He got us pizza.”

“Ah,” Jehan said, nodding knowingly. “And apart from that? Have you talked to Cosette?”

“No,” Enjolras said lowly. He knew he should, but the more he thought about it and the more he talked about it, the more it all became reality. He knew it was silly, because ignoring it wouldn’t change anything about it – it wouldn’t make it go away.

Jehan made a displeased noise. “You really should. She’s probably upset.”

“I had detention,” Enjolras said defensively.

“What’s wrong with Cosette?” Grantaire asked, his expression changing from confused to worried in a split second. “Did something happen?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Jehan asked flatly.

“Tell me what?”

“My parents are getting divorced,” Enjolras mumbled. He really didn’t want to talk about this _again_.

“Oh god,” Grantaire said faintly. “Oh god, that’s what was in that letter. That’s why you… oh shit, I’m so sorry. Really, Enjolras, I’m such an idiot, I just thought you… I’m sorry.” It looked like Grantaire wanted to hug him, but he hesitated before he actually touched him, his eyes finding Enjolras’, quietly asking for permission.

Enjolras nodded curtly, not sure why he was so strangely okay with this. He didn’t like it when people hugged him and he didn’t like it when people pitied him, but when Grantaire wrapped his arms around him he didn’t care about any of that anymore. It felt nice. He didn’t mind that he ended up with his face pressed into the soft fabric of Grantaire’s hoodie and he didn’t mind when Jehan embraced both of them and he ended up sandwiched between Grantaire and Jehan.

 “I’m really sorry,” Grantaire said again.

“You couldn’t have known,” Enjolras said lowly, “don’t worry about it.”

“No, but I do worry about it,” Grantaire said stubbornly, “I worry about _you_.”

“There nothing to worry about, though.” He didn’t even know why Grantaire cared so much all of a sudden, it wasn’t like he’d paid Enjolras any mind before, unless it had been to contradict him.

“No, Grantaire is right,” Jehan said firmly, “we’re your friends, it’s our job to worry about you.”

Enjolras didn’t mention that he wasn’t even sure if he and Grantaire actually were friends, he just nodded and stayed right where he was, squeezed between Jehan and Grantaire, feeling at least somewhat alright. He had friends here. He wasn’t alone.

Neither Grantaire nor Jehan said a word for a very long time and Enjolras felt more and more like he was about to burst into tears, which was about the last thing he needed the two of them to witness, so he quickly sat up. “I should really go talk to Cosette.”

“We’ll be right here if you need anything,” Jehan said, eyes never leaving Enjolras as he slowly got off the bed.

Enjolras nodded. He wasn’t planning on bothering them any more than he already had, though. “Have fun with Courfeyrac tonight,” he said, and then he made a quick escape.

* * *

Enjolras found Cosette outside, wrapped in her favourite coat and wearing a knit cap that definitely wasn’t hers, perched on a bench with Musichetta, Joly and Bossuet. She smiled at him when she saw him coming, said something to the others and then came walking towards him.

“I was wondering when you’d show up again,” she said and hooked her arm through his. “How was detention?”

“Not too bad,” Enjolras answered. “Did you get a new hat?”

She tugged at it. “Oh, it’s not mine, it belongs to Marius. He was with us earlier, but he had to go help Courfeyrac with something.”

“Marius, huh?” Enjolras asked, grinning.

Cosette shrugged. “He’s nice, you know? He’s really smart, too. And not as awkward as he seems.” She paused. “Okay, maybe he is as awkward as he seems. But still. He’s cute.”

“That’s… great.” Enjolras tried for an earnest smile, but he was sure that it came out more like a grimace than anything else. “Anyway,” he said quickly, because really, he hadn’t come down here to talk about Marius Pontmercy and his strange ways of seducing women, or whatever he was trying to do with Cosette. He didn’t even want to think about it. “Have you talked to mum? Or dad?”

“I called mum last night,” Cosette told him, “She was upset.”

“Upset as in drunk?” Enjolras asked dryly.

“Well, what do you think? She said she was sorry, she also asked about you. Said you hadn’t called. I told her you probably needed some time and that you’d call eventually.”

Enjolras only nodded. He did need time. A lot of time. Maybe a year or two.

“I mean, we knew that things weren’t perfect at home,” she continued when he remained silent.

“Of course we did,” Enjolras mumbled, “I just didn’t think they’d actually… I don’t know, I mean, what do you think mum’s going to do? Without us there? And without dad? Without anyone to keep her in check? Because I’m pretty sure dad won’t let her have sole custody. She’ll be all alone. She’ll… I don’t know.”

Cosette sighed. “Maybe they’ll let us have a say.”

“Maybe,” Enjolras said, although he highly doubted it. She’d have to go to rehab, and even then there was no guarantee that any court would deem her capable of taking care of two children. “I’m sorry that you landed in such a shitty family.”

“It’s a lot better than the ones before,” Cosette said earnestly. She hardly ever talked about her other foster families, but whatever had happened to her there hadn’t been pretty. Enjolras could only admire her. “And I got you for a brother,” she continued, smiling up at him, “that’s nice, you know? Even though you suck sometimes.”

“Well, so do you,” Enjolras grumbled. Although that wasn’t quite true, because Cosette actually was an angel and he could count himself lucky to have a sister like her.

She laughed and shoved him gently.

“Do you think I should call her?” Enjolras asked. He didn’t want to talk to his dad, for sure, he wouldn’t have anything nice to say to him in any case, but his mother probably deserved some sign of life from him. “I feel like I should talk to her.”

She patted his arm. “You don’t have to. Just take your time. We can call her together if you want.”

“Right,” he muttered. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Cosette nodded. “Whenever you want.” She started leading him back towards the main building, waving at a group of girls as they passed. “You know,” she said after a while, “we’re having a movie night tonight, you could join us if you want.”

Enjolras frowned. “You. You and all the other girls. Watching rom-coms.”

“Don’t even try to tell me you don’t like them, I know you cried when we watched The Notebook. You were sobbing. I mean before you started ranting about how the film reinforces that guys have to do to get a girl is be persistent, which is-”

“Okay, you can stop,” Enjolras said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t mention that Cosette had actually agreed with him back then, he was pretty sure that she remembered. “But I still won’t join you, sorry.”

“Marius is going to come, you know?” Cosette said teasingly.

“Oh of course he is,” Enjolras mumbled.

Cosette raised her eyebrows. “What?”

“What?” Enjolras shot back.

“Do you know something that I don’t know?”

“Maybe,” Enjolras said, smiling down at her.

“And are you going to tell me?”

Enjolras shook his head. “Nope.”

“You’re an ass,” she said and stuck out her tongue at him.

Enjolras returned the gesture and stalked off towards the main building, not without turning around and waving goodbye at a pouting Cosette.

* * *

Enjolras did end up spending the evening in the girls’ common room after all, since half of his friends seemed to have decided that watching movies with the girls was absolutely hilarious. He would have stayed in his room to study, but what Grantaire had told him earlier that day was still bugging him. He didn’t want anyone to think that he didn’t enjoy their company.

And he definitely was _not_ disappointed when Grantaire wasn’t there. Before they started the first movie, Enjolras nudged Joly. “Where’s Grantaire?”

 “I think he has a date with Bahorel and a bottle of tequila,” Joly told him with a grin. “Why are you asking?”

“No reason,” Enjolras mumbled and turned his attention back to the TV screen, where the Little Mermaid had just started playing.

All in all their movie night wasn’t as bad as Enjolras had thought it would be. Cosette’s friends were nice enough, although Eponine was downright terrifying and Enjolras was hoping that he’d never get on her bad side. Musichetta definitely made up for that, though, and Enjolras could see why Joly and Bossuet liked her so much.

Courfeyrac and Jehan joined them halfway through High School Musical, at which point Enjolras was already fast asleep. Grantaire and Bahorel never showed up.

However, Enjolras did encounter Grantaire a long while later.

Enjolras had showered and gone straight to bed after their movie night had been cut short when Javert had shown up to tell them they were being too noisy and had asked them to please return to their own dormitory.

When he woke up in the middle of the night, Enjolras felt slightly disorientated, since there seemed to have been a knock on his door, but it was still dark, so maybe it had just been a very vivid dream. He closed his eyes again, but only a few seconds later he heard a thump.

Enjolras switched on his bedside lamp and quietly went to open the door. When he did, Grantaire, who’d apparently been sitting right in front of his door, practically fell into his room.

“What the hell?” Enjolras whispered.

Grantaire blinked up at him in confusion. “Enjolras.”

“Yes?” Enjolras grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet. Grantaire swayed slightly and tumbled into his arms. “Are you drunk?”

“Just a little,” Grantaire mumbled into his shirt. “Just a tiny little bit.”

Enjolras kicked the door shut with his foot, because he really didn’t need Javert to find him arguing with a drunk Grantaire out in the hallway in the middle of the night. He moved Grantaire an arm’s length away from him, examining his face. His blue eyes were bloodshot and heavy, his cheeks flushed. “You need to go to bed.”

“I tried,” Grantaire muttered.

“But you couldn’t find your room?” Enjolras guessed. Great, just great.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I know where my room is,” Grantaire said, stumbling a little. Enjolras held him firmly. “I just wanted to… I wanted to… talk to you. About things. You know. Things.”

“What things?” Enjolras asked, eyes narrowed. His patience was already wearing thin. He didn’t need this, not today, not on any day. He’d left this sort of thing behind when he’d left home.

“Bahorel and I… we finished that tequila, you know, the one I brought. And we… I wanted to come talk to you. Bahorel told me not to, he said you’d be angry, are you angry?”

Enjolras huffed. “I can’t say I’m delighted to see you.”

Grantaire made a face. “I’m sorry.”

“Just go to bed, Grantaire,” Enjolras said, satisfied with how annoyed he sounded. He could only hope that Grantaire got the hint.

“No, I need to apologise.”

“What for?”

“For being a dick,” he said simply. His eyelids fluttered and he stumbled forward again. “Can I sit down?”

Enjolras sighed wearily, but guided Grantaire over to his bed, where he flopped down quite ungracefully.

“Where was I?” Grantaire asked, tugging his fingers through his mop of curls.

“You were apologising,” Enjolras said slowly as he sat down next to Grantaire.

“Exactly, because I was being a dick,” Grantaire said, nodding, “and your parents are getting divorced and I didn’t know that, I’m really very sorry, I should have just gone away when you told me to, but you looked so sad, I don’t want you to be sad. Sad doesn’t look good on you.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t now,” Enjolras said, repeating his words from earlier. “Grantaire, really, you need to sleep.”

“But it’s not okay. See, I like you, even though you’re a bit of an ass sometimes, and I know you don’t want to be friends, I get that, I don’t understand why anyone would put up with me, because, you know, my dad’s right, I’m a giant fuck-up, I’ll never be anything but a fucking disappointment.”

“That’s not true,” Enjolras said immediately. “I do want to be your friend.”

“Hm, no need to lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” Enjolras protested.

“Ah, I’m not a very good friend, though. Really, you wouldn’t want me as a friend.”

Enjolras shrugged. “I’m not a very good friend either.”

Grantaire hummed thoughtfully and tugged at one of Enjolras’ curls. “Your hair looks nice,” he whispered.

Enjolras was pretty sure that his hair was a mess, so he remained silent and smiled awkwardly. He didn’t really know what to do now, not that he didn’t know how to handle drunk people, but Grantaire was a little more coherent than his mother usually was and his annoyance from earlier had somehow vanished into thin air.

“I’ll try to be less of a dick,” Grantaire said quietly. “Promise.” He leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras said sternly, “don’t you dare fall asleep.”

“I won’t, ‘m just resting my eyes.”

Enjolras wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to deserve this, but the universe obviously hated him, because it took Grantaire less than a minute to start snoring. Enjolras tried to wake him up again, but Grantaire didn’t budge.

He briefly considered carrying Grantaire back to his room, since it really wasn’t that far, but he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t manage to do so without waking up the whole floor and Lamarque along with everyone else, and he really didn’t want to get Grantaire into trouble.

“I fucking hate you,” Enjolras muttered as he slowly eased Grantaire down onto the mattress.

Grantaire’s answer was an incredibly loud snore.

And even though Enjolras had hardly enough space to be comfortable, he fell asleep rather quickly and didn’t wake up again until the sun was already starting to rise. He realised he’d kicked off the duvet and was snuggled up against Grantaire’s back, and had an arm slung around him and a quite obvious bulge in his pyjama pants.

Enjolras quickly inched away from Grantaire, completely mortified, pulled up the duvet and took a couple of deep breaths. He could will this away, as he always did, there was no need to panic, this was perfectly normal, it just happened sometimes, and it had absolutely nothing to do with Grantaire. The only good thing about all this was that Grantaire obviously hadn’t noticed and was still fast asleep.

At some point Enjolras must have fallen asleep again as well, because when Jehan knocked on his door to get him for breakfast, the sun was up high and Grantaire was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

“Good morning, sunshine,” Jehan mumbled as he threw himself onto Enjolras’ bed the next morning. He didn’t exactly look like he’d just got up, but he definitely looked like he’d got dressed with his eyes still closed. Jehan stayed very still for a while and Enjolras was starting to hope that he’d fallen asleep again, because that would mean that he didn’t have to get up to go to breakfast, but then Jehan suddenly sat up again, eyebrows raised. “Did you turn into Grantaire over night?” he asked, poking Enjolras in the ribs. He laughed. “Did I miss something?”

Enjolras was pretty sure that his face was turning all kinds of shades of red. “Why are you asking?”

“Your pillowcase smells like smoke and tequila,” Jehan said slowly, eyes narrowed. “Come on, spit it out.”

“Grantaire came by last night,” Enjolras told him, shrugging. “He fell asleep and I didn’t want to drag him back to his room.” Easy as that. Not at all awkward. Nothing to tell.

Jehan didn’t seem to buy it, though. “And why did he come by?”

“To apologise,” Enjolras said, hoping he was sounding casual.

“I see,” Jehan mused. Enjolras was pretty sure that Jehan knew something he wasn’t telling him, at least going by the way he was smirking at him. “And he stayed the night, yeah?”

Enjolras bit his lip. “Yeah, and then he left.” God, he sounded like he was sulking. Which he wasn’t.

Jehan just stared at him for a couple of seconds. “What?”

“This morning,” Enjolras explained. “He just left.”

“Well, I suppose he realised that he’d come to apologise in the middle of the night and had fallen asleep in your bed,” Jehan said slowly. “Bit embarrassing, wouldn’t you say?”

Not as embarrassing as what had happened to Enjolras earlier that morning, but he wasn’t going to mention that. Enjolras was pretty sure that he was blushing again, though, and he really needed to learn how to get this under control, because he was feeling ridiculous and Jehan’s grin was growing ever wider.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me what happened,” Jehan started and patted him on the arm, “I know you have a lot of things going on right now, just promise me that you’ll be careful with Grantaire.”

“Be careful with him,” Enjolras echoed, not exactly sure what to make of that.

Jehan nodded. “It’s just that you’re not the only one with a not so great family and Grantaire doesn’t need more crap to wrack his brains about.”

“I’m really trying to be nice,” Enjolras said. “I’m trying to be friends with him.”

“I know that. That’s not what I meant. Just don’t be too nice. You know, as in letting him sleep in your bed. With you.”

Enjolras’ eyes went wide. “It’s nothing like that. Honestly,” he said quickly. “Nothing happened.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jehan asked.

Enjolras pursed his lips. “Have you talked to Grantaire?”

Jehan laughed, blushing faintly. “Not really, I just saw him earlier. He seemed distraught.”

“You could have told me that you knew all along,” Enjolras grumbled.

“Sorry,” Jehan said, smiling apologetically, “I mean, I don’t actually know anything, we didn’t talk about you or anything, he barely said a word and I was worried. But hey, we can just forget this talk ever happened.”

Enjolras nodded. “Okay, that’s a great idea. And really, it’s nothing like that, we’re really just giving being friends a try and Grantaire would give you the same answer if you asked him, so don’t worry.” He knew Jehan and Grantaire were good friends, and he understood Jehan might have got the wrong idea, but there really was no reason for him to be concerned.

Jehan smiled again. “Fine. Let’s go have breakfast.”

“Let’s go quickly,” Enjolras said, glancing at his alarm clock, “we only have fifteen minutes left.”

* * *

Grantaire was neither at breakfast nor at lunch and when Enjolras knocked on his door later on there was no answer. He knocked again, called “Grantaire?” tentatively, but it seemed that either Grantaire really wasn’t there or just didn’t want to talk to him.

Instead of going back to his own room, where he’d sit around and contemplate calling his parents, he walked back down the hall to say hello to Combeferre. He found him sitting at his desk, about thirty pages ahead in their chemistry book, “just taking a look at some exercises”, as he said.

Enjolras didn’t even want to think about chemistry. He made himself comfortable on Combeferre’s bed, waiting patiently for him to finish.

Combeferre eventually turned around, readjusting his glasses. “How can I help?” he asked, offering him a smile.

Enjolras shrugged. He was feeling a lot of things at the same time and he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with any of it. He also didn’t know how to put it into words. Mainly, he just wanted to be distracted and forget about all of his problems.

“It’s okay to be sad,” Combeferre said slowly, as if he wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to say. “And it’s okay to be angry. No one wants their parents to break up.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Enjolras mumbled. “They weren’t happy and they haven’t been for a long time. I suppose I saw it coming, in a way.”

“Whether you saw it coming or not, you don’t have to pretend that this isn’t a big deal and doesn’t bother you and that everything is fine.”

“I’m not pretending,” Enjolras said. “I talked to Cosette. I even let Jehan and Grantaire hug me. Everything _is_ fine. Really.”

Combeferre frowned. “If you say so.”

“Yes, I say so,” Enjolras said firmly. He didn’t want to throw a fuss, and he didn’t want his friends to worry about him, he was sure he could deal with this on his own.

“Well, I don’t have to tell you that my door is always open.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras said.

Combeferre nodded. “Right, now that we’ve cleared that up, I should probably tell you that Courfeyrac was taking pictures of you while you were sleeping yesterday and that he’s going to use them against you.”

“He’s going to use them against me?” Enjolras asked, an eyebrow raised.

“When the occasion arises,” Combeferre told him, his lips twitching. “I just thought I should warn you.”

“Well, thanks for that,” Enjolras said. Seemed like he’d have to track down Courfeyrac to make sure all evidence was destroyed. “Do you happen to know where Grantaire is?” Enjolras then asked. “I wanted to go talk to him earlier, but I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Have you tried texting him?”

Enjolras shook his head. “I just knocked on his door.”

“I can give you his number if you want it.”

“I have his number, actually,” Enjolras said quickly. Courfeyrac had made sure he had everyone’s phone numbers, but Enjolras didn’t like texting much, he was all for face-to-face conversations.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually,” Combeferre said, shrugging. He looked at him pointedly. “If it’s urgent, I can tell you some places he might be hiding at, though.”

“It’s not.” Enjolras drew up his knees, resting his head on them. “He just spent last night sleeping in my bed, because he was too drunk to go back to his own and I wanted to ask him…” He trailed off. He wasn’t even sure what exactly he wanted to ask him.

“Yes?” Combeferre prompted.

“I’m not sure,” Enjolras said slowly.

“He slept in your bed, huh?” Combeferre asked. He looked like he was trying really hard not to burst out laughing.

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. “He did. Does he do that a lot? Stumble into other people’s room and annoy them to death?”

“Not that I know of,” Combeferre said, “I mean, he used to sneak into Jehan’s room every now and then last year, but except for that…” He shrugged.

“He said he wanted to apologise,” Enjolras told him. It felt like his conversation with Jehan all over again. “I’ll try to be friends with him. I can be friends with Grantaire, right?”

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to.”

“Because he’s cynical and loves to contradict me and gets on my nerves ninety-nine percent of the time,” Enjolras rattled off.

“I see,” Combeferre said thoughtfully, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t try.”

Enjolras nodded. “Right.” He chewed on his lower lip absent-mindedly. “So, where do I start looking for him?”

“Well, I’d check Feuilly’s office first, then behind the tool sheds, then the lake. He goes there to draw sometimes.”

“Great, thank you,” Enjolras said and left Combeferre to his chemistry exercises.

* * *

He didn’t find Grantaire in Feuilly’s office, but still stuck around for a chat with Feuilly, because he didn’t really want to mention why exactly he’d come over. All he found behind the tool sheds was an extraordinary collection of cigarette butts, so he moved on down to the lake.

He was slowly but surely starting to regret that he hadn’t put on a warmer jacket. The wind was cold, a lot colder than it had been just two days ago, and he was almost glad when he didn’t find Grantaire anywhere near the lake.

There was a couple sitting on a bench across the lake and Enjolras faintly recognised them both from his English class. He ignored them and turned around to walk back towards the school when he heard someone call his name.

Enjolras turned around, but there was no one there. He frowned, but kept walking.

“Over here, Enjolras.”

He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating, but that had sounded a lot like Grantaire. Enjolras looked to his right, and yes, right there, amidst the braches of a huge willow tree, Grantaire was sitting, waving at him as he approached.

“What are you doing here?” Grantaire asked, flipping his sketchpad shut. He stuffed it into a battered backpack, then he lowered himself onto the ground.

Enjolras bit his lip. “I was looking for you, actually.”

“Oh?” Grantaire scratched his head. “What’s up?”

“I just…” Enjolras shrugged. “I wanted to ask if you were okay. You were a bit out of it last night, you know?”

“Ah, that. Yeah, sorry about that, I usually don’t… do that,” Grantaire said. “Me keeping you awake was probably the last thing you needed.”

Enjolras sighed heavily.

Grantaire bit his lip. “I guess that really wasn’t the best way to go about the whole friendship thing.”

“I agree,” Enjolras said sourly. He took a deep breath. This wasn’t helping, he’d promised himself to give this a chance. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Sure… wasn’t the first hangover I had to deal with, and it wasn’t even that bad,” Grantaire said lightly.

“Good,” Enjolras muttered. This had been a stupid idea. “I’ll just go back, then.”

“Wait,” Grantaire said, “do you want to hang out or something? Because that’s a thing friends do… right?”

Enjolras stared at him for a probably unacceptably long amount of time until he eventually nodded. “Right, let’s… hang out.”

They sat down on one of the benches around the lake, carefully avoiding every topic they knew they disagreed on, so Grantaire talked about his favourite books and the places he wanted to visit and how much he wanted to study art, and Enjolras listened, legs pulled up, which made it easier to ignore the cold, wondering why he’d never talked to Grantaire before – properly talked to him – although Grantaire was doing most of the talking at the moment, but Enjolras hardly even cared.

“…I mean, I know it’ll take a lot of convincing, because my parents want me to become a doctor or a lawyer… something _respectable_. I mean, can you imagine that? Me as a doctor. That would be a fucking disaster. But art, that’s different, I feel like I could actually be good at that, you know. I could throw in a bit of graphic design, maybe, and– what are you smiling about?”

“Nothing,” Enjolras said quickly. He hadn’t even realised he’d been smiling. “Just… keep talking.”

“Why don’t you talk for a change?” Grantaire said, smirking.

“Okay, what do you want to know?”

“Anything.” Grantaire shrugged. “Tell me why your room looks so fucking depressing.”

“What?” Enjolras asked. “My room isn’t depressing,” he said defensively.

“It is. You have a plant. And that’s it. I mean, you’ve seen Jehan’s room, right? I’m not saying turn your room into an utter mess, but maybe put up a poster or something? Get a fuzzy blanket. Anything that makes it look less like a prison cell.”

“It doesn’t look like a prison cell.” He had to admit that it did look pretty bleak, especially in comparison to everyone else’s rooms, but he just wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“Okay, you know what… I’m pretty sure your parents send you allowance, right?” Grantaire said, continuing when Enjolras nodded, “So, next weekend, before we all go have pizza, we can go into town early and we’ll get you some stuff for your room, how does that sound?”

“Okay, sure,” Enjolras said, a little surprised, but not actually opposed to the idea.

Grantaire smiled happily, then he frowned. “Are you shivering?”

“No, I’m not.” There was another gust of wind and Enjolras could feel goosebumps rising all over his body.

“Yes, you are,” Grantaire said and instantly tugged off his scarf to wrap it around Enjolras. It smelled faintly like cigarette smoke, but it was incredibly soft. “Better?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras nodded. “Thank you. I guess I should have put on some warmer clothes.”

“Let’s go back before you freeze to death, I guess that wouldn’t exactly help with the whole friendship thing either,” Grantaire said and pulled him off the bench. “Come on, I know where to get some hot chocolate.”


	10. Chapter 10

Enjolras spent most of the week avoiding phone calls from both his parents, avoiding Cosette because she’d tell him off for still avoiding their parents, and avoiding talking about his family to anyone, even Jehan, who seemed to be the most worried of his friends.

Combeferre made a point in leaving him be, which was why Enjolras often camped out in his room, just talking about whatever, as long as it had nothing to do with home or divorces or custody battles. It worked quite well, since Combeferre was basically a fountain of knowledge and never ran out of things to talk about.

On Friday evening Courfeyrac offered to explain all the legal proceedings, so Enjolras would know what to expect and Enjolras let him, hoping it would help him to fully understand what was going to happen now, but he hardly even listened and it only filled him with dread. He left the common room early that day to hole up in his room, pretending that he still had homework to do that couldn’t possibly wait.

He did leaf through his school stuff for a while, finding that the only thing he still had left to do was that terrifying art assignment that he kept pushing to the back of his mind, hoping it would somehow go away and do itself.

Other than that he tried to dutifully get all of his homework done on time, although that didn’t stop him from getting into arguments with his teachers. Most of them seemed to be used to it by now and some of them, especially Lamarque, had mastered the art of silencing him quickly by letting him say what he had to say and then giving him the chance to come and further discuss the matter _after_ the lesson.

The only class he persistently kept silent in was art, because he had enough problems already and didn’t need the teacher to hate him, too.

Enjolras glared at his assignment for a while, eventually deciding to procrastinate a little more.

It was that evening that Grantaire came to knock on his door.

They’d spent all week trying very hard not to get on each other’s nerves, had visited Feuilly together after classes on Monday, but hadn’t otherwise talked much. It had worked well enough.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire said, smiling brightly when Enjolras opened the door. “Can I come in?”

Enjolras wordlessly stepped back to let him in and sat back down on his bed, watching Grantaire silently contemplate where to take a seat. He ended up leaning against the desk, looking more than a little uncomfortable.

“So, what’s up?” Grantaire asked, fingers tapping against the desk top restlessly.

“Not much,” Enjolras said slowly. “I was just… doing homework.”

“It’s Friday evening.”

“So?” Enjolras asked defensively.

“I was just thinking that you might be hiding from everyone else or something, but obviously I was wrong, of course you’re doing homework.”

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Okay, fine. Good for you.”

“I’m not hiding,” Enjolras said seriously.

“Sure,” Grantaire said, obviously still not believing him. Enjolras wouldn’t budge. “Anyway, you’re still up for getting stuff for your room tomorrow, right?”

Enjolras looked at him for a few seconds, a little confused. He’d completely forgotten about that.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to anymore,” Grantaire added quickly. “I mean, it looks like you have a lot of stuff to do.” He smirked. “Homework and all that.”

Enjolras glared at him and threw his pillow in the general direction of where Grantaire was standing, missing him completely, and ended up knocking three books off his desks.

Grantaire burst out laughing, bent down to pick up the books and then returned the pillow to Enjolras, not without whacking it over his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he mumbled and sat down next to him, ruffling his hair.

Enjolras tried to bat his hand away and ended up toppling Grantaire over, grinning down at him. “I’m not.”

“Whatever you say, goldilocks,” Grantaire said, smiling up at him. He seemed to be quite comfortable lying on Enjolras bed with his head almost hanging off the mattress, since he didn’t move to sit up.

“Don’t call me that,” Enjolras grumbled and leaned back against the wall.

“Aw, but it’s so fitting,” Grantaire cooed, nudging him with his toes. “So, do you want to go into town after lunch tomorrow? We can check out that shop where Jehan always gets all of his crap and we can get ice cream, unless you’re one of those people who think that there’s a time when it’s too cold for ice cream, which would sadden me deeply, by the way, and later we can meet up with everyone else and have pizza, how does that sound?”

“Good, that sounds good,” Enjolras said, nodding. “Thank you.”

“Great, see you tomorrow, then.” Grantaire sat up abruptly and poked Enjolras in the ribs. “Have fun with your homework,” he said, adding a whispered, “ _goldilocks_.”

“Actually,” Enjolras said and grabbed Grantaire by the arm, “would you mind, um, helping me?” He didn’t like asking for help, he usually didn’t, but he knew that Grantaire would be able to save him from despairing completely and he’d rather deal with some snide remarks concerning his drawing skills than failing art because he’d been too stubborn to ask.

Grantaire stared at him, taken aback, then he shrugged and leaned back against the wall next to him. “Yeah, why not. What do you need help with?”

Enjolras got his sketchpad from his desk and handed it to Grantaire. “Can you help me fix this?”

“You really were doing homework, holy shit,” Grantaire muttered, idly flicking through his drawings, or rather his attempted drawings, his expression carefully blank.

“What do you think?” Enjolras asked, nervously chewing on his bottom lip.

“Well,” Grantaire said, his eyes meeting Enjolras’, “you’re not exactly Leonardo da Vinci.”

“I know that, thanks,” Enjolras grumbled.

Grantaire did his best, really, and Enjolras wasn’t quite sure how Grantaire was so patient when he himself clearly wasn’t, because he just wanted to get this done, no matter what the outcome looked like.

It was nearly ten when Grantaire decided that it was finished, Enjolras had decided it was finished about an hour ago, but Grantaire had kept adding little touches that had made it look decidedly less disastrous, so Enjolras had soon stopped complaining.

It was then that there was another knock on his door and Lamarque came inside, regarding them with a smile on his face. “There you are, Grantaire, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Whatever it is, it wasn’t me, I was just helping Enjolras with an art assignment,” Grantaire said quickly, waving at Lamarque with the sketchpad. “See?”

“Actually I was just coming to check on everyone and since I didn’t find you in the common room or your own room I was a little concerned.” He smiled at them kindly. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. I’m glad you boys are finally getting along, Monsieur Javert wasn’t too happy with you two when he caught you fighting.”

“That was just a misunderstanding,” Grantaire said, looking to Enjolras for confirmation.

Enjolras nodded. “He’s right, we weren’t really fighting.”

“Obviously we were, but just because we…” Grantaire shrugged. “Anyway, we’re all good.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Lamarque said and turned to Enjolras. “Now, Enjolras, could you come by my office tomorrow morning, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Enjolras wasn’t sure how he knew instantly that this was about is parents, he just did, so he only nodded, no questions asked.

“Great, have a good evening,” Lamarque said, “don’t stay up too late. And don’t forget to let me know when you come back from town tomorrow evening.”

“What did you do?” Grantaire whispered as soon as Lamarque was gone.

“I’m pretty sure my mum called him and told him to talk to me or something like that,” Enjolras said with a shrug. He’d listen to whatever Lamarque was going to tell him and continue to not care.

Grantaire hummed, carefully watching his face. “You’re okay, right?”

“Of course I’m okay, I’ve just not been answering my parents’ call and I told Cosette to tell mum that I’m fine and that I just don’t want to talk to anyone right now, but yeah, I suppose they want him to talk me into speaking to them.”

“Well, obviously he can’t force you to talk to them,” Grantaire said slowly. “But that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t.”

Enjolras nodded, but didn’t answer, not quite sure what to say.

They sat in silence for a while, done with Enjolras’ assignment, not really having much left to talk about. He had a feeling that Grantaire somehow didn’t want to leave him alone. “You can go,” Enjolras said, “I’m fine.”

“Right, sorry, I didn’t want to annoy you or anything.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Enjolras said quickly. “Just don’t feel like you have to stay and hang out with me out of pity.”

Grantaire smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous, we’re friends, right?”

“Right,” Enjolras said and smiled back at him.

* * *

His talk with Lamarque after breakfast the next day was anything but pleasant, and it turned out that Enjolras had been right about why he’d wanted to talk to him. He had to promise that he’d give his parents a call the next couple of days and that he’d come to Lamarque afterwards to talk about it.

Enjolras knew that it was only because Lamarque cared and because he didn’t want him to lie about having called them, but Enjolras would have preferred to just get it over with and not go over every single detail with a concerned teacher. It wouldn’t be at all helpful, Enjolras was sure, but he didn’t seem to have much of a choice here.

He didn’t tell anyone about it either, although Grantaire shot him a knowing glace when he sat down at their table during lunch.

“So are you all coming into town?” Enjolras asked, looking around the table.

“Wait, are you going earlier?” Bossuet asked. “Because I really need a-”

“We can’t go earlier,” Joly piped up, elbowing Bossuet in the ribs, “we have to do that thing, remember?”

“What thing?” Bossuet asked, evidently confused.

“Well, the _thing_ ,” Joly said insistently, eyes flickering to Grantaire for a second. “For… maths.”

Bossuet’s eyes widened, looking at Grantaire as well, then back at Enjolras. “Oh, right, that thing.” He nodded, but still looked rather confused and didn’t actually seem to know what _the thing_ was.

Enjolras decided to just let it go.

“Well,” Marius said happily, “Cosette and I are going earlier, too, maybe we can go together.”

Courfeyrac immediately burst out laughing and patted Enjolras on the back.

“I don’t think so,” Enjolras said, trying not to sound completely hostile, but didn’t quite manage, at least going by how scared Marius was looking all of a sudden.

Courfeyrac didn’t stop laughing for another five minutes.

Enjolras had just finished his dessert, when Grantaire peeked over his shoulder, a chocolate brownie in his hand. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure.” Enjolras got up, suddenly unsure whether or not this was a good idea. They’d argue. He’d say something stupid and insensitive and they’d go back to hating each other. This was a horrible idea.

Grantaire smiled uncertainly, probably having noticed his hesitation. “Or we could go later. With Marius and Cosette,” he added jokingly.

Enjolras grinned. “Yeah, no, let’s leave.”

“See you later,” Courfeyrac called after them, waving frantically, the broadest smile on his face.

Grantaire waved back at him, but not nearly as enthusiastically, Enjolras simply decided to ignore him and quickly walked outside, shrugging on his jacket.

Grantaire walked next to him in silence and lit a cigarette the moment they’d left school grounds. Enjolras tried very hard not to judge, but obviously failed, because Grantaire sighed and threw his cigarette on the ground as soon as he caught Enjolras looking.

“Sorry,” Grantaire muttered and buried his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “So… do I ask how your talk with Lamarque went or do I keep my mouth shut and try to find something else to talk about?”

Enjolras didn’t answer until they’d come to a halt at the bus stop. “It wasn’t…” He shrugged. “He wants me to talk to my parents. As I’d guessed.”

“And you still don’t want to talk to your parents.”

“I really don’t,” Enjolras muttered.

“Why not?”

“Because they’re going to try to explain themselves and they’re going to apologize and I don’t want to hear that.”

“Why not?” Grantaire asked again.

Enjolras shrugged. “Because.”

“Because,” Grantaire repeated. “Interesting.”

“Shut up,” Enjolras grumbled.  

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m wasn’t trying to push you to talk to me or anything.”

“No, I get that, it’s just not my favourite thing to talk about, but everyone is so worried. I feel like everyone thinks I’m about to explode.”

“Well, you are very calm,” Grantaire said. “And usually you’re… not.”

“What do you mean?” Enjolras asked, frowning.

“You like to argue. About everything. You rant about shit all the time and I guess everyone’s just expecting you to do the same now, but it’s okay if you don’t. Really, man, do whatever helps you. But don’t feel like you can’t talk to anyone either.”

Enjolras nodded. His chest felt tight and he didn’t feel like he could look at Grantaire for a minute.

Grantaire started shoving around little pebbles with his foot. “Bus should be here in a couple of minutes.”

“I’m glad we left this early, I really didn’t want to go with Cosette and _Marius_.”

“Aw, are you being the bad and terrifying big brother?” Grantaire said, laughing.

“I’m trying not to, because Cosette apparently really likes him, although I don’t really understand, because he’s… Marius.” Enjolras wasn’t really sure what to think of him. He was nice, sure, but he also had a rather strange worldview.

Grantaire snorted. “Well, don’t be too hard on him. Courfeyrac’s has been trying to get him to talk to a girl for ages, it was a disaster because, well, you’ve met Marius. See it this way… he’s the perfect guy for your sister, because he’ll never even _think_ about trying to make a move. He’s too scared. Basically you have nothing to worry about.”

When they got on the bus five minutes later, Enjolras was actually smiling.


	11. Chapter 11

Enjolras refrained from letting Grantaire talk him into buying all kinds of crap, but did relent when Grantaire threatened to buy a fuzzy blanket for him if he didn’t do it himself. He mostly bought books, though, Grantaire waiting patiently until he made his picks.

Enjolras found himself wishing he had the same patience when he watched Grantaire examine art supplies. He would have busied himself, it was just that he didn’t quite know for what reason he would be looking at oil paints or canvases or a rather excessive selection of pencils. Grantaire seemed to notice that he was growing restless, because he took one look at him and rolled his eyes. “You’re worse than a five-year-old.”

“Take your time,” Enjolras said, trying not to be annoying, although he would have much rather said something like _can we go now_.  

“No, I think I’m done,” Grantaire said, not without staring longingly at a stack of high quality sketchbooks.

Enjolras laughed. “I don’t think you are.”

“You’re bored out of your mind, don’t think I can’t tell. I can just come back some other time. I’ll ask Feuilly to take me, he likes it here. Come on.” Grantaire took him by the arm and dragged him outside. “Ice cream?”

“Great idea,” Enjolras said and let Grantaire lead him down the road that was teeming with boarding school students to a small bakery, which happened to sell all kinds of things.

They got a seat near the window and Enjolras pointedly ignored the amused glance Grantaire shot him when Enjolras got increasingly desperate looking at the menu.

“You didn’t tell me there would be waffles,” Enjolras said lowly.

“Ah yes, delicious, freshly made waffles. Well, I won’t judge you if you choose them over ice cream. However,” he added and reached over to turn the page of the menu Enjolras was looking at, “you could also have waffles with ice cream. Actually, you can have everything with ice cream as long as you ask nicely.”

Enjolras did end up choosing waffles with ice cream and Grantaire kept stealing bites. “Just to try them,” he kept saying.

Enjolras let him, because he actually really didn’t mind, he was used to that sort of thing from living with Cosette for years, and Grantaire let Enjolras try his huge piece of chocolate cake.

“Right, so I don’t want to alarm you,” Grantaire said, smirking, “but Pontmercy and your sister are definitely being super adorable across the street right now.”

Enjolras turned around so he could take a look, eyes widening when he spotted Cosette and Marius. They were most definitely holding hands and when Marius bent down to say something to Cosette she started giggling. Enjolras had never seen her like this. Of course she’d always been outgoing and funny, unlike Enjolras, but he’d never seen her so happy.

“Wow, they really are a thing, aren’t they?” Grantaire muttered.

“Looks like they are,” Enjolras said and turned back to look at Grantaire.

“I never thought Pontmercy would ever manage to get some.” Grantaire’s grin crumpled when he saw Enjolras’ expression. “I mean, not that he’s getting some, you know, they’re just holding hands, they’re basically kindergarteners, they probably won’t move on to anything else in the next two years.”

Enjolras highly doubted it. “If you say so.”

“Well,” Grantaire said, still staring out the window, “I think I might have to take that back.”

Enjolras turned around again – fast enough to see that Cosette was giving Marius a kiss on the cheek. “I did not need to see that.”

“Aw, but look how happy Marius is, this is probably the best day of his life,” Grantaire cooed.

Enjolras wanted to hit him with his plate.

“Dude, chill,” Grantaire muttered, “it’s still kindergarten level, they might just move on to snogging a lot faster than I thought.”

“Yeah, thanks, that’s really reassuring,” Enjolras grumbled.

Grantaire grinned. “You’re such a good big brother, it’s adorable.”

“Shut up, I’m just worried about her. She’s been through enough, she doesn’t need a guy who breaks her heart on top of it all.”

“Enjolras, really, have you met your sister? If anyone’s going to do some serious heartbreaking here, it’ll be her. Pontmercy is a puppy, he couldn’t hurt a fly.” Well, Grantaire wasn’t wrong and going by Grantaire’s grin, he knew that Enjolras knew. “Are you going to finish that?”

Enjolras pushed his plate across the table and silently watched as Grantaire stuffed his face with what was left of his waffles.

* * *

They almost ended up being late, because they ran into Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Jehan, who insisted on buying food for the common room and Grantaire ended up taking way too long to decide which chocolate bars to get for his personal stash.

When they entered the restaurant, they found Joly, Bossuet and Bahorel already sitting at a table that was large enough to fit them all. Musichetta and Eponine joined them only a couple of minutes later; Cosette and Marius didn’t arrive until most of them already had their pizza in front of them.

“Aw, look at our two lovebirds,” Courfeyrac whispered.

Enjolras refrained from sighing loudly and was actually a little surprised when Eponine shot Marius a murderous glance as they sat down.

He was quickly distracted when Marius told them that the ice rink was going to open in a couple of weeks and everyone broke out in cheers – save for Bossuet, who didn’t seem to be too excited about the prospect of having to go ice skating, and Enjolras, who also liked to stay very, very far away from ice or any other slippery surface, thank you very much.

Courfeyrac then started talking about how much he was looking forward to going to the Christmas market in his hometown and everyone immediately started chatting about their plans for Christmas, at which Enjolras grew quiet.

He wasn’t quite sure where he’d be spending Christmas, but he was certain that one of his parents would definitely not be there.

Grantaire nudged him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered. “What are you doing this Christmas?”

“I’m going to my grandparents’. It’s not going to be very exciting, but my parents are going on holiday and they’ve made it explicitly clear that they’re not going to take me. I wanted to go visit my sister in America, but my dad wouldn’t let me.” He shrugged. “It’s just two weeks and grandma makes amazing biscuits, so it won’t be unbearable.”

“Well, you know you could always come to my place,” Courfeyrac chimed in. “’Ferre is staying with me this Christmas and there’s room for more if anyone fancies spending a very special Christmas with an unbearably loud and lively Italian family, feel free to say so, Mamma will be delighted to have you all.” Courfeyrac smiled happily as he looked around the table. “No one? Well, you’re missing out.”

Enjolras almost asked if Courfeyrac was serious, because really didn’t want to spend Christmas with his parents, not because he was angry at them, just because he was angry in general. The whole situation was incredibly irritating and he didn’t feel like deciding who he’d rather spend Christmas with.

Well, maybe he was a little angry at his parents, too.

Anyway, he couldn’t just ditch Cosette on Christmas. However, Musichetta was just telling Joly and Bossuet that she’d invited the girls for Christmas.

Enjolras shot Cosette a questioning look.

“Later,” Cosette mouthed and stole some of Courfeyrac’s pizza.

The conversation soon moved on to various projects that they all needed to get done, preferably sooner than later, and Bahorel started ranting about Javert and his impossible deadlines.

Grantaire snorted. “Honestly, at some point we’re just going to suffocate under a pile of homework. I might just… not do it.”

“You can’t just not do it,” Enjolras said sternly.

“Ah, come on, can you imagine how pissed off he’d be? Aren’t you usually all about pissing off teachers?”

Enjolras frowned. “I’m all for questioning our education system, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a sense of responsibility.”

“A sense of responsibility,” Grantaire repeated, barking out a laugh. “Right.”

“Yes. It’s not like defying your teachers by not studying is going to get you anywhere,” Enjolras said. “Or into university, for that matter.”

“I honestly don’t give a crap about university,” Grantaire snarled.

“Well, you should,” Enjolras shot back.

“Oh, should I.”

Enjolras couldn’t believe this. “Of course.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, what do you think is going to happen if you go looking for a job after school? You’ll end up being a waiter for the rest of your life, or you’ll be stuck behind a cash register, maybe you won’t even get a job. Is that seriously what you want?”

Grantaire pursed his lips. “It’s better than what my parents want for me.”

“Well, how about you tell your parents that you don’t care what they want.”

“It’s not that easy. You should know. You’re too afraid to even call your fucking parents, so really, don’t you think you’re being a tiny bit hypocritical right now?”

Enjolras felt like there was no air left in his lungs. “Fuck you,” he grit out.

“Yeah, whatever,” Grantaire hissed. “Here, man,” he muttered and handed Joly some money, “pay for me, I’m off.” He stalked off, not looking back at them.

Everyone fell silent, all of them just staring down at their plates.

Courfeyrac eventually cleared his throat. “So, who wants dessert?”

* * *

Breakfast was unusually quiet the next morning. Enjolras and Grantaire were sat on opposite sides of the table, neither of them willing to have breakfast somewhere else to avoid this awkward silence. It was a bit of a staring match, really, with Combeferre, Joly, Jehan and Courfeyrac as spectators, glancing back and forth between them, never for too long, though, as if they were scared that they might somehow provoke them.

Enjolras had promised himself that he wouldn’t be the first one to look away and Grantaire didn’t seem to feel any differently. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night, his eyes were red-rimmed, but he somehow managed to even make the way he was sullenly chewing on his toast look stubborn.

Enjolras wasn’t sure why he’d thought that they might get along. Anyway, he’d been wrong and now he had to deal with the consequences.

In the end, it was Grantaire who backed down, but Enjolras wasn’t quite happy about it either. He simply stared after him, the thought of how much fun they’d had together before they’d gone and screwed it up somehow still lingering, then he turned to his friends.

“That was _really_ awkward,” Courfeyrac said, trying for a smile.

“Well, that’s not my fault,” Enjolras grumbled and stabbed at his scrambled eggs. “He was being an ass.”

Combeferre shot him one of his terrifying looks. One of the ones that made you rethink your life choices completely. It was just that Enjolras didn’t quite know why he was on the receiving end right now. “What?” he asked.

“You weren’t exactly nice to him either,” Combeferre said hesitantly.

Enjolras frowned.

“Look,” Jehan piped up before Enjolras could say anything, “what we’re trying to say is that he’s not the only one who was out of line last night.”

“I’m not going to apologise,” Enjolras said. He knew he was being unnecessarily stubborn, but he didn’t see why he should be the one to make the first step.

“Well, one of you is going to have to do something at some point,” Combeferre said.

“Yeah, because that passive-aggressive staring is creepy as fuck,” Courfeyrac added. “Really intense, but still creepy.”

Enjolras let out a long-suffering sigh.

“I’m sure Grantaire didn’t mean what he said,” Joly said.

“You didn’t mean what you said either,” Jehan said. “Right?” he added when Enjolras didn’t answer.

Enjolras wasn’t sure, because he certainly had been serious about what he’d said, but maybe he shouldn’t have been so harsh about it. “Well, not really.”

“See,” Courfeyrac said, “and that’s what you should tell each other.”

Enjolras shook his head. “Nope.”

“Okay, I give up.” Courfeyrac gathered his and Jehan’s empty plates and took off with Jehan at his heels.

“Finish your eggs,” Combeferre said and nudged Enjolras.

Enjolras did, still feeling miserable. He’d talked to Cosette the evening before and she’d told him that she was, in fact, considering spending Christmas with Musichetta, but that she’d meant to talk to him about it. And their parents, obviously.

Enjolras had told her that he wouldn’t mind, since Cosette wanted to spend Christmas at home about as much as he did, so he was glad that she’d found a much better alternative. He just wished he’d have one, too.


	12. Chapter 12

Enjolras had already changed into his pyjamas that evening, even though it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet, when there was a knock on his door. “Come in,” he called. He could only hope that it wasn’t Lamarque wanting to ask him if he’d already called his parents.

To his immense surprise it was Grantaire who came walking into his room. “Hi,” he said lowly. He had his hands crossed behind his back; it almost looked like he was hiding something.

“Hello,” Enjolras said slowly, voice almost raised in question.

Grantaire bit his lip. “I talked to Combeferre,” he muttered.

Enjolras almost laughed. They should start paying Combeferre for being their group therapist. “And he told you to talk to me?” Enjolras guessed.

“Yeah, he said he told you to talk to me as well, but that he didn’t think you would.”

“He wasn’t wrong,” Enjolras said. He felt silly all of a sudden, because he’d been acting childish and stubborn. He should have listened to Combeferre, as Grantaire obviously had.

“Are you still mad at me?” Grantaire asked. He sat down on Enjolras’ chair and put what he’d been hiding on his desk. It looked like a sheet of paper.

Enjolras tried to see what it was, but was distracted by Grantaire’s questioning look. “I guess not,” he said slowly. Actually, he wasn’t quite sure.

“So you are,” Grantaire said, nodding, “I figured.”

“You were being unreasonable,” Enjolras said, trying to stay calm. Combeferre would be so proud of him right now. “You were behaving like an ass,” he couldn’t help but add. Although maybe Grantaire hadn’t been the only one.

Grantaire sighed. “I’m sorry about what I said. That thing about your parents. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Well, it’s not like what you said wasn’t true,” Enjolras mumbled.

“What you said wasn’t far from the truth either.” Grantaire shrugged. “But, you know, not everyone can be like you, Enjolras. Some of us aren’t idealistic and have faith in the people or whatever it is you keep saying.”

“I don’t want anyone to be like me,” Enjolras grumbled.

“But you do want everyone to live up to your lofty ideals and expectations,” Grantaire shot back.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I realise that it wasn’t my place to judge you or your aspirations,” he said slowly. He had to tread carefully now. “It’s just-”

Grantaire quickly shook his head. “No, don’t do that.”

“What?”

“You just apologised. In a way, at least. Just leave it at that.”

“I just think that you-”

“No, really,” Grantaire said, “I’m serious, leave it. I don’t want to discuss my future with you. Or my family or whatever. Okay?”

Enjolras sighed. “Fine.”

“Anyway,” Grantaire said, “I made something for you.” He picked up the sheet of paper he’d put on Enjolras’ desk. “You know, so you have something to put on your wall. But don’t feel like you have to or anything.”

Enjolras wordlessly accepted the picture from him. It was a drawing of himself, Combeferre and Courfeyrac, and Enjolras instantly remembered an evening a couple of days ago when they’d sat in the common room together, Grantaire on the sofa opposite of theirs, doodling idly.

“You hang out with them a lot, so I thought… yeah.” Grantaire shrugged. “I won’t be mad if you end up throwing it away, honestly.”

The worst thing was that Grantaire sounded so convinced that Enjolras wouldn’t want it. Enjolras felt like punching some sense into him. “I’m… not going to throw it away. It’s fantastic.”

Grantaire blinked at him slowly. “Okay.”

“Honestly, thank you,” Enjolras said earnestly, “I love it.”

“You do?” Grantaire asked, a smile tugging at his lips. “Well, that’s good.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say so if I didn’t.”

Grantaire laughed quietly. “Right, of course you wouldn’t. Well, see you tomorrow or something.”

Enjolras nodded. “Thanks again.”

“It’s really not a big deal.” And with that Grantaire was gone, leaving Enjolras staring down at the picture he’d given to him, completely in awe.

He heard Grantaire’s door fall shut, then the sound of Grantaire plucking random melodies on his guitar filtered through the opposite wall. Enjolras smiled half-heartedly, eyes wandering to his phone. Grantaire had been out of line when he’d called him out on not talking to his parents, yes, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been right.

Enjolras picked up his phone, thinking about what to say. He had a plan. Sort of. Dialling his mother’s number, he sat down on his bed.

“Enjolras?” she answered, “I’m so glad you finally called.”

As if they hadn’t practically forced him to. “Hello,” Enjolras said curtly.

“How are you, dear?” There was a quiver in her voice that Enjolras knew all too well. She’d been drinking. “How is school?”

“It’s fine,” Enjolras said. Grantaire was still idly strumming his guitar on the other side of the wall. Enjolras sighed. “I’ve made some friends. And that’s actually why I’m calling. A friend of mine invited me to his house for Christmas and I basically already told him I’d go, is that okay? Cosette said she’d be staying with a friend as well.”

It was only half a lie. Courfeyrac had invited him for Christmas; he’d invited all of them. Enjolras just wasn’t sure how serious he’d been. He also hadn’t told him that he’d very much like to take him up on his offer.

“Oh, Enjolras, I was hoping that at least you would come home,” his mother said. “I know you’re angry at your father and me, and I was hoping we could talk about it face to face.”

“We can talk about it right now,” Enjolras said. Anything as long as he didn’t have to go home for two weeks. He’d be miserable without Cosette there.

“Darling, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“Isn’t that why you wanted me to call?”

“No, we were worried about you, Enjolras,” she said, then she sighed. “I’m sorry we’re putting you through this, but it’s for the best.”

Enjolras didn’t need to hear this. “Okay,” he said flatly, “if you say so.”

“Enjolras, I know that this is difficult.”

“Oh, do you?” Enjolras said, his patience crumbling. “Do you think it’s more difficult than finding my mother passed out in the living room or finding out that my father is sleeping with other women behind her back?”

“Enjolras,” his mother said, definitely sounding tearful now, “I’m so sorry.”

Enjolras bit his lip. He hadn’t wanted this, the words had just tumbled out. He felt a tear running down his cheek and quickly wiped it away. “So am I,” he whispered.

“We won’t make you come home for Christmas if you really don’t want to,” she said quietly.

“Thank you,” Enjolras said, somehow trying to stop his voice from cracking, “I have to go now, I have homework to do, but I’ll… I’ll call you.”

He didn’t realise until he’d hung up that he’d never asked her who he would have had to spend Christmas with should he have chosen to come home. Who he’d have to spend the summer with next year. What happened next. Maybe it was for the best that he didn’t have any answers, because chances were that he wouldn’t like them.

He tried to ignore the tears dropping onto his new blanket, rubbing his eyes, trying to stop, because he was fine, there was no reason for him to cry. He wiped at his cheeks again, then he stood up and went to find Courfeyrac, hoping he wasn’t looking like a complete mess.

Enjolras could hear people laughing in the common room, but he was pretty sure that none of them was Courfeyrac, it sounded more like Joly, Bossuet and Bahorel, so he knocked on the door of his room, which was opposite of Combeferre’s.

Courfeyrac opened his door almost immediately, which probably meant that he hadn’t had to untangle himself from Jehan first. He was also wearing dinosaur pyjamas and Enjolras wasn’t quite sure if they were some kind of ironic statement or if Courfeyrac just really, genuinely like dinosaurs. It was probably the latter.

“Enjolras,” he said, grinning at him, his smile quickly crumbling once he’d taken a good look at his face. “What’s wrong?” Courfeyrac quickly pulled him into his arms, not waiting for an answer, and hugged him tightly for a few seconds. “Go sit down on my bed.”

Enjolras did, his mind strangely blank.

“Combeferre, get your ass over here,” Courfeyrac called and slammed the door shut. He stomped over to the bed and pulled Enjolras against his chest again. “Do you want me to go punch Grantaire in the face? Or at least stare at him angrily, because punching him would be really wrong?”

Enjolras sat up, shaking his head. “This has nothing to do with Grantaire.”

“Oh,” Courfeyrac said, one hand still on Enjolras’ shoulder, “I just thought… you know, because he went to talk to you. Anyway, what is it, then?”

“I called my mum,” Enjolras muttered.

Before Courfeyrac could answer, the door opened and Combeferre walked inside, looking mildly confused. “Everything okay?”

“Enjolras called his mum,” Courfeyrac explained, “which is literally all I know.”

Combeferre nodded and sat down next to Enjolras, gently patting his arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Enjolras shook his head. “Not really.” He swallowed hard. “Courf, were you serious when you said we could all spend Christmas at your house?”

“Of course,” Courfeyrac and squeezed him tightly once more. Enjolras was slowly starting to stop minding all the hugging. It felt nice, actually. “I’ll call home tomorrow and tell my parents you’ll be coming, yeah? We’ll be very happy to have you.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras said, “really, thank you so much.”

“I should warn you, though,” Courfeyrac said lowly, “my family can be really pretentious, I mean, our house is ridiculously huge and three of my four sisters will be there, one will bring her boyfriend and one will bring her husband and their two children, but, and believe me, this is a lucky twist of fate, neither of my grandparents will be there. Oh, and my oldest sister insists on cooking and she wants to try to make turkey, so we might all get food poisoning,” he concluded, still smiling. “But my Mamma always makes lasagne, too, because she loves me, so we can always eat that.”

“Sounds great,” Enjolras said, completely serious. He already had a feeling that this was going to be the best Christmas of his life.

* * *

“Are you excited for Christmas,” Courfeyrac shouted as he came waltzing into Enjolras’ room.

“You’re incredibly loud, has anyone ever told you that,” Enjolras mumbled, not even looking up from his book, although he could see Combeferre smirk out of the corner of his eye.

It was Saturday afternoon and they were in his room, trying to study. Trying, because he kept getting distracted by his phone. Grantaire was in town with Joly and Bossuet and he kept sending him texts and pictures, making sure Enjolras knew what he was missing out on.

They were at the ice rink and Grantaire had been trying to get Enjolras to come with them all week, but Enjolras definitely didn’t feel like breaking an arm or a leg or his neck at the moment. Anyway, he needed to study, because they had some tests coming up before Christmas break and he was starting to feel a little restless, because it wasn’t like he managed to study a lot, mostly thanks to Grantaire.

Combeferre had long since stopped looking up every time Enjolras’ phone buzzed, but Enjolras couldn’t help but looking at the texts Grantaire sent him. He was simply too curious, even though he knew by now that it would probably just be another picture of Joly and Bossuet making silly faces. Being Grantaire’s friend really wasn’t easy sometimes.

“Guys,” Courfeyrac said and sat down between them, “pay attention to me.”

Enjolras and Combeferre flipped their books shut at the same time, looking up. Courfeyrac was wearing a Christmas jumper with a giant reindeer on it, its nose a big red bobble. Enjolras was pretty sure that it either was Jehan’s or that Jehan had the exact same one.

“We’re paying attention to you,” Combeferre said, smiling at Courfeyrac.

“Thank you. Jehan and I got Christmas decorations,” Courfeyrac said, pointing to a bag at his feet. “Enjolras, where do you want your fairy lights?”

“I don’t need fairy lights,” Enjolras said.

Courfeyrac glared at him. “Yes, you do.” His tone allowed no arguing.

“Fine, just put them wherever you want to.”

Courfeyrac smiled happily and started draping the fairy lights around his bookshelf, humming Jingle Bells. Enjolras wasn’t sure whether or not he should be terrified.

“You do know that Christmas is in three weeks, right?” Enjolras asked when Courfeyrac starting sticking paper snowflakes to his window.

“I know, I’m doing this way too late, but I didn’t realise you wouldn’t take care of this yourself, so I had to take matters into my own hands.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re basically the Grinch, Enjolras,” Courfeyrac said and sat down next to him. “I want you to feel the Christmas spirit.” He took Enjolras’ face in his hands. “Are you feeling it?”

“I am,” Enjolras said, hoping Courfeyrac would let go of him.

“Good,” Courfeyrac said and pinched his cheek. “Now tell me what the fuck is going on with your phone.”

“It’s Grantaire,” Enjolras told him. He was surprised at how fond he sounded. “He’s in town with Joly and Bossuet and he’s trying to make me regret not going with them.”

“Aw, isn’t that just sweet,” Courfeyrac said and turned around to look at Combeferre. “Don’t you think?”

“I think it’s rather distracting,” Combeferre said, not unkindly. “Enjolras doesn’t seem to mind, though.”

Courfeyrac turned back around, wiggling his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

Enjolras only rolled his eyes. He knew Courfeyrac was just teasing, as he did so often, but he could have sworn that his cheeks were still turning pink. He looked away, hoping Courfeyrac wouldn’t see.

“You guys hang out a lot,” Courfeyrac continued, a smug smile spreading on his face.

“He helps me with art, I’d probably fail without him,” Enjolras said sternly, “just stop it.”

Courfeyrac sighed heavily. “You’re no fun,” he grumbled and leaned back. “So, who wants to hear the latest Pontmercy gossip?”

“No,” Enjolras said instantly, “please don’t do this to me.”

“Rumour has it,” Courfeyrac said, ignoring him, “that he asked his beloved to go the Christmas party with him. Isn’t that just _so_ romantic?”

Enjolras frowned. “What Christmas party?”

“God, Enjolras, do you live under a rock?” Courfeyrac nudged him enthusiastically. “ _The_ Christmas party.”

“I think you might have to elaborate,” Combeferre said.

“Well, there’s always a huge party in the assembly hall the day before we break up for Christmas, it’s a tradition and _everyone_ is going.”

“Everyone,” Enjolras echoed. That probably included him.

“Yes, everyone. Even you,” Courfeyrac confirmed. “Don’t give me that look, we’re going to have fun. There’s great food. And punch. Javert’s going to sit next to it all evening, making sure that no one spikes it, it’s hilarious.”

“I don’t like parties,” Enjolras mumbled.

“You’re going to like that one, believe me.”

Enjolras highly doubted it. “We’ll see.”

“I can’t wait to see Marius trying to get Cosette to stand under a mistletoe with him,” Courfeyrac crooned. “It’s going to be adorable.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Enjolras grumbled.

“Enjolras, your sister is growing up, there’s nothing you can do about it, you have to let her spread her wings,” Courfeyrac said, spreading his arms dramatically, accidentally knocking Combeferre’s glasses off his nose. “Oh shit, I’m sorry.” He scooted closer to Combeferre and gave him a hug. “Forgive me.”

“How much sugar have you had today?” Combeferre asked dryly, hugging Courfeyrac back.

Courfeyrac hummed. “It’s not my fault, Feuilly had Christmas biscuits in his office.”

“Detention again?” Combeferre asked, sounding vaguely amused. “How did I miss that?”

“Nope, not this time. Theatre group business.” Courfeyrac grinned and let go of Combeferre, nearly poking him in the eye when he tried to help him put his glasses back on. “Now, let’s talk about what I should get Jehan for Christmas.”

* * *

 

Enjolras waited patiently until he heard Grantaire’s loud laughter in the hallway when he came back from ice skating with Joly and Bossuet, long after dinner, then Enjolras quickly walked over to his room, peeking in through the half-open door.

Grantaire was freeing himself from the various layers of clothing he’d put on, stumbling out of his boots and making a complete mess of his hair when he tugged off his beanie.

Enjolras cleared his throat. “May I come in?”

Grantaire looked up, grinning at him. “Yeah, sure, can you close the door?”

Enjolras did and sat down on Grantaire’s constantly unmade bed, keeping his eyes trained on the opposite wall as Grantaire peeled off his extremely skinny jeans, huffing and puffing.

“It started raining when we were on our way back from the bus stop, I think it sort of started freezing,” Grantaire mumbled and pulled on a new, dry pair. “So, how can I help you?” he asked as he fished a bag of M&Ms out of his not so secret chocolate drawer.

“I need to buy Christmas presents for…” He paused, thinking. “A lot of people.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?” Grantaire flopped down onto the bed, wrapping his bedsheets around himself. “I think I’m a walking icicle, here feel,” he said and touched Enjolras’ cheek with the back of his hand.

Enjolras jumped and pushed Grantaire’s hand away. It really was freezing cold. “Wow, don’t you have gloves?”

“I do, they weren’t really doing their job,” Grantaire said, tucking his hands under the sheets as well. “So, Christmas presents, huh? Well, we don’t usually do them, you know, it’d just get too expensive. It’s not like birthday presents where everyone can chip in. I usually just make cards for everyone, it doesn’t cost that much. We don’t give presents to each other here, it’s fine.”

“But I’m spending Christmas with Courfeyrac and Combeferre,” Enjolras said. Courfeyrac had already told him to not get presents for his parents or his sisters or any of his relatives, but Enjolras and Combeferre had agreed to at least get a little something, just to say thank you for letting them stay at their house. Luckily, Combeferre had promised to take care of that.

Grantaire nodded. “So you need presents for them. I guess that won’t be too hard.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Enjolras said, “I’m not good at… presents.” He’d been giving Cosette gift cards ever since he alone had been in charge of getting her a present. This year he’d probably go for an itunes gift card.

Grantaire had the audacity to laugh. “Okay, listen, just think about what they like. What does Combeferre like? Think.”

“Cable knit jumpers, Earl Grey and complex mathematical equations?” Enjolras tried, looking at Grantaire to see how bad he’d done. Apparently extremely bad.

Grantaire just stared for him, expression incredulous, shaking his head. “Well,” he said after a while, “we can work with that.”

“What would you get him?” Enjolras asked.

“Probably a book. Like, a really fucking old book. He’d probably like that. Something philosophical or science-y, you know?”

Grantaire was spot on. Combeferre would love that. “You’re a genius.”

“I know,” Grantaire said, grinning smugly. “What about Courfeyrac? What does he like?”

“Jehan,” Enjolras answered immediately.

Grantaire snorted. “He already has one of those, though. Anything else?”

“He likes dessert… and, um, corny films.”

“You’re not wrong,” Grantaire said, laughing quietly. “Honestly, I’m pretty sure you can get Courfeyrac anything and he’ll love it. Something Christmassy maybe?”

“Good idea,” Enjolras said. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Grantaire said, shivering a little. “I think I’ll go get some tea.”

“I’ll make you some,” Enjolras said, jumping up, “it’s the least I can do.”

Grantaire sniffled, smiling gratefully. “Thanks.”

Enjolras went to the common room to get two cups of tea, and Courfeyrac, who was sitting on one of the sofas with an arm slung around Jehan, grinned at him smugly.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and marched off, trying not to spill hot tea all over himself. He could only hope that Courfeyrac wouldn’t also go teasing Grantaire about this, because the last thing Enjolras needed was Grantaire thinking that Enjolras wanted to be anything but his friend.

Grantaire was waiting for him, leafing through a book, looking up and smiling when Enjolras came back and handed him his tea.

“What’s that?” Enjolras asked, nodding at the book.

“Oh, just a thing,” Grantaire replied and put it on his nightstand with a shrug.

Enjolras caught a glimpse, seeing that the title was German for Beginners. “You’re learning German?” Enjolras asked curiously.

“Yeah, Feuilly’s been helping me, he kinda taught Marius, too,” Grantaire mumbled. “I’m not really good at it, though.”

“You’re better than I am,” Enjolras said, grinning.

Grantaire laughed. “That’s not hard.”

-

The following weekend Enjolras decided to take a break from studying and caught a ride into town with Feuilly, who was happy to take him.

He did find a woolly hat that had reindeer antlers, knowing it was the right thing to get Courfeyrac, because he could actually already _see_ him wearing it, then he went to the tiny second hand bookshop Jehan had told him about.

The owner was incredibly helpful in assisting him with finding a book Combeferre would like. When he paid for hit, his eyes fell on a shelf with books in other languages. “Sorry,” he said, “do you happen to have anything in German?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I was on holiday in England.


	13. Chapter 13

Enjolras didn’t have time for this.

He knew his parents paid a lot of money for him to stay at this school, he knew it was unlikely that he’d be expelled if he failed an exam, but still, he wouldn’t take any chances – especially not since he really liked it here. This was the first school he actually wanted to stay at.

He still had two tests coming up before the Christmas party, which was on Friday, but he also really needed to wrap the presents he’d bought and he was starting to get a little desperate. The wrapping paper wouldn’t cooperate and he was pretty sure he had sticky tape in his hair.

Enjolras didn’t like to admit it, but he really needed help, which was why he texted Jehan. Of all his friends he was the one Enjolras thought most likely to know how to wrap presents.

He asked him if he could come over to his room, specifically telling him not to bring Courfeyrac, since it was quite likely that the two of them were together at the moment, and one of the presents was for Courfeyrac after all.

Jehan appeared about half an hour later, apologising profusely. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see your text, I was… studying.”

“Studying as in snogging Courfeyrac?” Enjolras asked, smiling knowingly.

“Ah, you got me,” Jehan said, grinning down at him. “Who are you wrapping presents for? Someone told you about the no presents thing, right?”

“Yeah sure, but I thought since I’m spending Christmas with Courfeyrac and Combeferre I should probably get them gifts,” Enjolras said with a shrug. “And I’m not wrapping them, I’m _failing_ at wrapping them.”

“Let me guess, that’s where I come in,” Jehan said and sat down next to him, plucking some tape off Enjolras’ jumper. “You’re not really good at estimating how much wrapping paper you’re going to need, huh?”

Enjolras frowned at the mess that was surrounding him. “Not really. It’s all a bit messy.”

Jehan snorted and reached for the lump that was Courfeyrac’s present. “Do you mind if I fix this?” he asked, already peeling off the wrapping paper. “Oh, this is adorable,” Jehan whispered, “please tell me you got this for Courf.”

“I did,” Enjolras said, feeling strangely accomplished.

“He’s going to love this,” Jehan said and neatly folded the hat and proceeded to wrap it more efficiently than Enjolras could have managed in about a hundred years. “You know, you could have just tried to wrap the books together.”

“Oh, they’re not… for the same person,” Enjolras mumbled. He tapped on one of the books. “This one’s for Grantaire.”

“Is Grantaire going to Combeferre’s as well?” Jehan asked as he quickly wrapped the books, too, with perfect corners and all.

“No, I just thought he might like it, so I got it for him.”

Jehan smiled sweetly. “That’s very thoughtful of you. And I’m sure he’s going to love it, but I suppose you could give him a rock and he’d love it.”

“A rock,” Enjolras echoed. He wasn’t sure what exactly Jehan was trying to tell him.

“I’m just talking shit, ignore me,” Jehan said quickly, smiling his sweetest smile, and pushed the neatly wrapped presents towards him. “There you go.”

* * *

“I don’t want to study anymore,” Enjolras whispered.

“Twenty-four hours,” Courfeyrac whispered back, “then we’re free.”

“Are you two really pretending that you haven’t been staring at the wall with blank expressions for the last half hour?” Grantaire asked loudly.

Joly snickered and put down his book. “Maybe we should all follow Grantaire’s example and forget about maths. Or use our maths books as a pillow,” he said, looking at Bahorel, who was sitting at the table together with Combeferre, who’d tried to help him study, but was now studying on his own since Bahorel was fast asleep, drooling onto the open pages of his book.

“And draw Enjolras instead?” Marius asked, peering over Grantaire’s shoulder.

“You’re drawing me?” Enjolras asked, looking up and trying to sneak a glance at Grantaire’s sketchbook.

Grantaire, however, slammed his sketchbook shut. “Thanks a lot, Pontmercy,” he hissed and turned to Enjolras. “Anyway, you were… well-positioned. And the light was nice. And I’ve drawn everyone else about a hundred times, so yeah…” He shrugged and stood up. “I better go. Have fun with maths, guys.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Marius said, watching as Grantaire stomped out the room. “Is he angry at me?”

Everyone was silent, making sure they didn’t make eye contact with Enjolras, who wasn’t quite sure what the big deal was. He’d watched Grantaire draw Jehan the other day, and sure, Jehan had known that Grantaire was drawing him, but still. It didn’t seem like a big deal to him.

Still frowning, he turned his attention back to his maths book.

Everyone else fell silent again as well, until Courfeyrac noisily shut his book. “Okay,” he said lowly. “Okay, you win.”

Enjolras looked up, seeing that Courfeyrac was mock-glaring at Jehan, who was wearing a smug smile and now slowly got up and held out his hand, which Courfeyrac took without hesitation. They both vanished, giggling until a door slammed shut down the hall.

“What just happened?” Bossuet whispered, still loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

“I think I just threw up in my mouth,” Joly whispered back.

Marius shrugged. “I think they’re sweet.” He had the same look on his face that he always got when he started gushing over Cosette, which tended to happen quite frequently lately, and Enjolras wasn’t really in the mood to listen to him go on about how great his sister was again.

“I think I’ll go, too” Enjolras said, completely ignored by everyone around him.

He only made it as far as Grantaire’s door, where he paused and knocked.

“What?” Grantaire called, sounding grumpy.

“Can I come in?” Enjolras asked.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire seemed to be a bit surprised. “Sure, come in.”

Grantaire was sitting on his bed, wrapped in a blanket, his sketchbook in his lap. Enjolras sat down at his feet, eyeing the sketchbook. “Can I see?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes and turned his sketchpad around so Enjolras could look at it. It was a drawing of Courfeyrac and Jehan that he definitely hadn’t started just today.

“It’s a Christmas present for Jehan,” Grantaire said with a shrug.

“It looks great.” Just like all of his other drawings. If Enjolras only had a smidgen of Grantaire’s talent his life would be a lot easier. He wouldn’t constantly be worrying about failing art class, for instance. “So, is that why you left? Because you wanted to finish this?”

Grantaire nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t want them to see.”

““Well, they left, too,” Enjolras mumbled and pulled Grantaire’s blanket over his icy feet.

“Had enough of maths, huh?” Grantaire asked. “Can’t blame them, I had enough about ten years ago.”

“Yeah, they took off to…” Enjolras trailed off. He was pretty sure that he was blushing.

Grantaire smirked. “To what?”

“You know what,” Enjolras mumbled, suddenly feeling like he needed to hide his face. This really wasn’t his favourite topic.

“Aw, Enjolras, you’re such a virgin,” Grantaire whispered.

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. “So what?”

“Not that it’s a bad thing or anything,” Grantaire said, still grinning, “but it’s a tiny little bit hilarious that you can’t even say the word _sex_ without getting all… blush-y.”

“Stop making fun of me,” Enjolras said, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d got enough of this kind of thing at his old schools, people teasing him because he’d never had a girlfriend, because he’d never even kissed anyone. It hadn’t mattered to him. Not much, at least. But coming from Grantaire it stung.

Grantaire rolled his eyes, still smiling. “I’m not making fun of you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Oh, am I? And you know that better than I do because…?”

“I can tell that you are.”

“I swear, sometimes you’re just looking for something to argue about.”

Enjolras sighed. “I am not.”

“Of course, why else would get all riled up about bullshit like this?”

 “It’s not… bullshit,” Enjolras hissed.

“Yeah, whatever,” Grantaire mumbled. “Just forget it, it doesn’t matter.”

“Right, I forgot, you don’t care about anything anyway,” Enjolras said icily and left, never looking back at Grantaire, whom he left behind sitting on his bed, speechless.

* * *

“Are you ready for the parteeeey?”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Enjolras, come on, we’ve been waiting for this for weeks.”

“No, _you_ have been waiting for this for weeks.”

“Why are you so grumpy, Enjolras, you’re now allowed,” Courfeyrac muttered and squished his cheeks. “Is it because of your parents? Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, it’s just… it’s nothing, I just don’t like parties.” Obviously his parents’ divorce was always on his mind somehow, but his argument with Grantaire was even more so. And even though he’d managed to avoid him all day, Enjolras was pretty sure that he’d see him at the party.

“It’s not even a real party,” Courfeyrac said as Combeferre walked in and sat down next to Enjolras. “’Ferre tell him.”

Combeferre nodded. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“That’s not what I wanted you to tell him,” Courfeyrac said, pouting. “Give the party a chance, Enjolras. There aren’t even any mistletoes this year, so you don’t have to be scared that Marius might mistake you for Cosette and tries to stick his tongue down your throat.”

“That’s very reassuring,” Enjolras mumbled.

“I know, right?” Courfeyrac said. “I think I was kissed by half of the people in our year at last year’s party.”

“That’s because you refused to move away from under the mistletoe,” Combeferre said dryly.

“Ah, yes, that might have been why. Anyway, I was hoping Jehan might cross my path.” Courfeyrac got up and walked over to Enjolras’ closet. “There’s basically nothing in here.”

“I already packed,” Enjolras told him.

“You can’t wear that to the party,” Courfeyrac said sternly, pointing at Enjolras’ black jumper. “It’s depressing

“You can wear whatever you want,” Combeferre whispered. “Don’t listen to him.”

“It’s a _Christmas_ party, Combeferre.” Courfeyrac tugged at his reindeer jumper for emphasis, then he looked back at Enjolras. “At least wear something red or green.”

Enjolras sighed heavily. “Fine, I have a lot of red stuff, just pick something.”

Courfeyrac grinned happily and picked a red button-up from his closet, which he threw at him. “Change,” he said. “You’re lucky I’m not decorating you with tinsel.”

Combeferre snorted, but quickly turned serious when he saw Enjolras’ face. “Sorry,” he whispered, “I just… imagined.”

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” Enjolras grumbled.

He quickly changed and the three of them went downstairs to the assembly hall. It didn’t really look like the assembly hall anymore.

There was a huge Christmas tree in the middle of the hall, decorations lined the walls, the lights were dimmed and music was playing. There was a huge table with food and another one where Lamarque and Mabeuf were handing out drinks. Javert was, as Enjolras had been told, seated next to them, keeping a close eye on the punch.

“Jehan said he’d go ahead with Joly, Bossuet, Grantaire and Bahorel to find us a table,” Courfeyrac said and took Enjolras and Combeferre by the hand. “Can you see them anywhere?”

“I can see Marius,” Combeferre said lowly.

“Ohh yeah, me too,” Courfeyrac said, covering Enjolras’ eyes with his hand. “Don’t look”

Enjolras yanked Courfeyrac’s hand away, only briefly glancing at his sister, who was sitting on Marius’ lap at a table together with her friends. Next, he spotted Grantaire’s wild curls at a table in the back. “They’re over there.”

“Ah, very good.” Courfeyrac dragged them off towards the back, almost bouncing like the over-excited Christmas elf he was.

Enjolras soon figured out that he still didn’t enjoy going to parties and that he probably never would. It didn’t help that Grantaire was joking around with Joly and Bossuet across the table while Enjolras was still furious and would have preferred not to see him at all until after their Christmas break was over.

He made sure to glare in his direction every now and then, just for good measure, and sullenly ate the food Courfeyrac and Jehan had got for him before they’d left to go dancing. They hadn’t returned and he couldn’t spot them on the dancefloor either.

Combeferre had left to get something to drink, but had somehow got stuck at the drinks table, helping out Lamarque, Joly and Bossuet had migrated to Musichetta’s table, so Enjolras was now left with Grantaire and Bahorel, who had produced a little flask from out of nowhere and were spiking their punch under the table.

He tried very hard not to comment, politely declined when Bahorel asked him if he wanted some to, and eventually got up to pay Feuilly a visit. He was on DJ duty this evening, which meant he was sitting at the side of the hall, staring at a laptop screen, which was hooked to the speakers.

“Enjolras,” Feuilly said when Enjolras sat down next to him. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Are you having fun?”

“Not really,” Enjolras mumbled.

Feuilly nodded slowly. “Well, I’m sitting here with a laptop that Valjean borrowed from God knows who, turning away people who keep requesting songs I don’t have. By the end of the evening everyone’s going to hate me because I can’t live up to their Top 40 expectations.” Feuilly shrugged and handed him a bowl of crisps. “Here, you look hungry.”

“I’m not,” Enjolras said, but took it anyway.

“What is it, then?”

“Stuff.” He didn’t really want to elaborate. Feuilly surely wasn’t interested in his petty problems.

“Teenager stuff?”

“Probably.” Enjolras shrugged. “Define teenager stuff.”

“Stuff I probably still remember because I’m not that old,” Feuilly said and nudged him. “Maybe I can help.”

“I argued with Grantaire.” Again. He’d tried so hard not to, but it just kept happening. Grantaire didn’t seem to care anyway, so maybe he should stop trying altogether.

Feuilly frowned. “About what?”

“Well, we were discussing something,” Enjolras said, “and he just got all… I don’t know. There’s nothing he really cares about, which I think is sad, because he _should_ care. Because there are things that matter and he shouldn’t just ignore those things, because some people do care and it’s… hurtful if he ignores that.”

“And did you tell him that?” Feuilly asked.

“No, because he won’t listen, he’d just say something like _whatever, Enjolras, it doesn’t matter_.”

“Look, you guys need to learn how to talk to each other,” Feuilly said sternly, “and I mean _properly_ talk to each other. I don’t know what exactly he said, and I won’t ask you to tell me, but you obviously feel hurt, but, Enjolras, you have to learn to say so. Don’t hide in the janitor’s makeshift DJ booth because you want to avoid dealing with your problems.”

“But I don’t want to talk to him,” Enjolras said, biting his lip.

“Then don’t, but don’t think you’re just going to feel better about it at some point. It’ll keep nagging at you, I can see how much it bothers you.” Feuilly shrugged. “Look, you’re not going to change him. It’s who he is. He likes to pretend that he doesn’t care, because it’s easier for him.”

“How is that easier?”

“Ask him,” Feuilly said dryly.

“I still don’t want to talk to him.”

Feuilly sighed. “You’re both too stubborn for your own good.” He fiddled with his laptop to add a few more songs to his playlist. “So, what are you doing this Christmas?”

“I’m going to Courfeyrac’s,” Enjolras said.

“I met his mother once, she’s lovely. A little terrifying when she tries to hug you, but a very nice lady all the same.” Feuilly grinned. “Your parents don’t want you to come home?”

“They do,” Enjolras mumbled and nibbled at a crisp. “I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I guess I’d have to spend it with either my mother _or_ my father and I didn’t really feel like choosing.”

Feuilly nodded. “I see. Well, I’m sure you’ll have a great Christmas with Courfeyrac.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Feuilly patted him on the shoulder. “See, it’s not all bad.” He took Enjolras’ crisps away and shooed him off his chair. “Now go and have fun.”

Enjolras went, but had a little trouble with the having fun part. Cosette found him eventually and dragged him onto the dancefloor, where he had to stay for a whole five minutes until he managed to tear himself away and return to their table.

Combeferre was there again, smiling at Enjolras when he sat down next to him. “Did you escape them?” he asked.

“I did,” Enjolras said, looking at his friends who were still jumping up and down on the dancefloor. “Finally.”

“Yeah, you didn’t look too happy,” Combeferre mused. “Courfeyrac’s sister is picking up around noon, by the way, so there’s no need to get up early. I thought you might appreciate that.”

“I do,” Enjolras said, “I really, really do.”

They fell silent and Enjolras looked around the still crowded hall. Courfeyrac and Jehan, not easy to miss in their matching jumpers, had stopped dancing and were now leaving. Joly and Bossuet still hadn’t moved an inch away from Musichetta, who didn’t seem to mind at all, Bahorel was nowhere to be seen, his sister was still dancing with Marius, and Grantaire was across the hall, an arm slung around Eponine’s shoulder, leaning down to whisper to her.

Enjolras shifted in his seat so he could see better. “’Ferre, are Grantaire and Eponine… are they…”

Combeferre looked up. “Sorry, what?”

Enjolras shook his head. It was none of his business anyway, and why should he even care. “Nothing… I think I’ll go to bed. See you at breakfast.”

“Okay, good night, Enjolras.”

Enjolras managed a smile, said good night to Cosette, promised he’d have breakfast with her in the morning so they could exchange presents, walked past Courfeyrac and Jehan, who were out in the hallway, hiding in a dark corner, and made his way back to his room.

He’d already packed all of his books and his laptop, so he decided not to stay up, but to go straight to bed. He’d probably thank himself tomorrow morning when Cosette would text him to tell him that she was waiting for him in the dining hall at an awfully early hour.

When Enjolras changed into his pyjamas, his eyes fell on the book he’d had got for Grantaire, sitting on his desk, neatly wrapped.

He was still angry, but he’d bought it and it would be stupid not to give it to him. Maybe he’d just leave it in front of Grantaire’s room tomorrow morning, that way he wouldn’t have to speak to him. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea.

Enjolras was more or less asleep when he heard laughter out in the hallway – undoubtedly some of his friends returning from the Christmas party.

It didn’t take long until everyone had gone to their respective rooms and it was quiet again. But only for a minute or so, because then Grantaire seemed to think it was a perfect time to play Christmas songs on his guitar.

Enjolras groaned. He was on his feet within seconds, grabbed Grantaire’s present and went to knock on his door.

Grantaire opened it, guitar still in hand, staring at him in wonder. “Enjolras…”

“I’m trying to sleep,” Enjolras hissed.

“I thought it was quiet enough,” Grantaire mumbled. “Sorry, I’ll stop.”

“Thanks,” Enjolras spat and almost threw his present at Grantaire. “Merry Christmas.” With that he marched back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him with a little too much ferocity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been over 30000 words and they haven't even kissed yet and I'm sorry, bless you for sticking around.


	14. Chapter 14

“Do you think they’ll ever be done?” Enjolras asked. He was sitting in the entrance hall with Combeferre, both of them ready to leave.

Courfeyrac’s sister had got here half an hour ago and was still chatting with Mabeuf across the hall. Courfeyrac himself had been with them, but had run back upstairs, claiming he’d forgot something, but had obviously just taken the chance to say goodbye to Jehan. Again.

Jehan’s mother, whom Combeferre had pointed out to him, was standing next to the door, talking to some other mothers who were waiting for their children to grace them with their presence as well, checking her watch constantly.

Most of their friends had already left – Joly and Bahorel had been picked up straight after breakfast, the girls had left around the same time, but not before Cosette had hugged Enjolras for what had felt like an hour and they’d exchanged presents. She’d also said goodbye to Marius in a similar fashion, but it had involved a hundred percent more kissing. Marius himself had been picked up by his grandfather and Bossuet had said goodbye not too much later. The only ones Enjolras hadn’t talked to all day were Jehan and Grantaire.

Enjolras wasn’t even sure if Grantaire was still here or if his grandparents had already picked him up.

Either way, Enjolras didn’t care.

“He won’t be much longer, I’m sure,” Combeferre said, making Enjolras snap back to reality. “He said he’d be quick.”

Enjolras snorted. “Right.”

“There you guys are.” They both looked up when Grantaire stepped up to them, holding out two envelopes. “Merry Christmas, guys, don’t open your presents early, see you next year, blah blah.”

Combeferre took the envelope with his name on it. “Thanks, Grantaire, have a nice Christmas with your grandparents.”

Grantaire grinned, looking over his shoulder at an elderly couple who were talking to Valjean. “Yeah, I should probably make sure that they don’t talk to Valjean for too long, that’ll just get me in trouble. Take your card, Enjolras.”

Enjolras did, but hesitantly. “Thanks.”

“Well, I should go, you two were the last ones,” Grantaire mumbled.

He was just about to turn around when Jehan appeared behind him and jumped on his back. “You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye, right?”

Grantaire laughed. “Well, you and Courfeyrac seemed to be busy. Did you see your cards?”

“We did,” Jehan confirmed and let go of Grantaire. “Don’t forget to call me, okay?”

“I won’t forget,” Grantaire said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, where’s Courfeyrac?”

“He’ll be right down,” Jehan said, smiling smugly. “I should go, my mum doesn’t look too happy.” He gave Grantaire another hug, then he moved on to Combeferre and Enjolras. “Have fun with Courf, I’m sure we’ll talk at some point during the break.” He squeezed Enjolras tightly and ruffled his hair. “Don’t forget to call your parents, ‘kay?”

Enjolras sighed. “Sure.”

“Sandwich,” Courfeyrac called from behind them and wrapped his arms around the both of them. “I’ll miss you guys.”

“I’m spending the holidays with you,” Enjolras reminded him.

“I meant Grantaire,” Courfeyrac said, reached out and pulled Grantaire over to them as well.

Grantaire stumbled against them with a huff and one of his hands ended up on Enjolras’ back, but withdrew as soon as he realised. “I really need to go,” Grantaire said, “my grandparents are old people, you don’t make old people wait, right?”

“Yeah, me too, the drive home won’t be much fun if I let my mum wait any longer,” Jehan chimed in. “That means you’ll have to let go of me.”

“Noo,” Courfeyrac said, but he at least let go of Enjolras and stayed with his arms locked around Jehan. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Jehan mumbled. “I’d kiss you, but my mum is looking.”

“Maybe I forgot another thing in my room,” Courfeyrac said thoughtfully.

“No, you didn’t, we’re going,” Jehan said and freed himself from Courfeyrac’s grip, still laughing when he and Grantaire finally took off.

They only had to wait another ten minutes until Courfeyrac’s sister, who’d earlier introduced herself as Danielle and had hugged both Combeferre and Enjolras enthusiastically, came to get them and led them to a tiny, battered Peugeot – but not beforer they’d all wished Lamarque and Valjean a Merry Christmas.

“So, that was Jehan, huh?” Danielle asked when they’d all piled into her car. “He’s cute.”

“I know,” Courfeyrac cooed.

“Did you think I’d scare him away?” she asked, grinning at him. They were so obviously related, it was hilarious to watch.

“No, I just thought it might be a bad time to introduce him to you, because his mum was there and everything. He hasn’t exactly told her that he’s dating a guy. I don’t think he’s told her that he’s dating _anyone_.”

Courfeyrac and his sister kept bantering on and Enjolras listened for a while but eventually fell asleep with his head leaning against Combeferre’s shoulder.

* * *

“Wake up, kids,” Courfeyrac called loudly.

Enjolras’ head snapped up, bumping against Combeferre’s chin. Combeferre let out a pained groan. “Are we there?” he mumbled.

“Almost,” Courfeyrac said, “Danielle was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat before she took us home.”

“There’s a couple of nice cafés around here,” Danielle said, glancing at them in the rearview mirrow. “Are you hungry?”

“I am,” Courfeyrac said, “please tell me you are, too.”

“I wouldn’t mind grabbing a bite,” Combeferre said.

Enjolras nodded, rubbing at his eyes. “Food would be nice.”

Danielle bought them a late lunch in a tiny café, then they drove another quarter of an hour until they reached the estate of Courfeyrac’s family. Yes, _estate_ really was the only word for it, because although Enjolras had grown up in a ridiculously big house, it couldn’t compare to this huge mansion.

As soon as they set foot inside, a stout woman with a delighted and all too familiar smile on her face came to greet them. It was obviously Courfeyrac’s mum, who first pulled Courfeyrac into a tight hug, then she embraced Combeferre, before she turned to Enjolras, introduced herself as Francesca and gave him a hug as well.

She was lovely and it was quite obvious where Courfeyrac and Danielle had got their enthusiasm from.

Courfeyrac grinned when she bustled back to the kitchen, Danielle following at her heels. “Welcome, my friends, please note that eating all the food my mother offers you in the course of the next two weeks will result in your death.” He then beckoned them to follow him up the stairs, pointing at doors, explaining what was behind them, even though Enjolras managed to forget everything he told him within seconds.

“How do you not get lost in here?” Enjolras muttered, when Courfeyrac opened a door for them, proclaiming it Combeferre’s room.

“Just remember the photos on the walls,” Courfeyrac said, pointing at the picture frame next to the door, “your room,” he added as he turned to Enjolras, pointing at the door across the hall, “is next to the photo of me and my sister Véronique, who won’t be joining us for Christmas, by the way.”

Enjolras nodded. He’d get so lost in here.

Courfeyrac looked at him for a few long seconds. “You know what, just follow Combeferre around.”

Enjolras did just that and by the end of the day he was able to find his own room and Combeferre’s and Courfeyrac’s rooms, as well as the front door, the kitchen and the living room.

They spent the next couple of days helping Courfeyrac’s mother making Christmas biscuits, went to the Christmas market with Danielle, and Enjolras found that he very much enjoyed debating with Courfeyrac’s dad – about whatever was on the front page of the newspaper he was reading. Combeferre and Courfeyrac often joined in, backing up his arguments or pushing him in the right direction when he was struggling to find the right words.

Enjolras was having a better time than he could have ever had at home.

Now it was the evening of the 23rd, Courfeyrac had retreated to his room to call Jehan, and Enjolras, too, had called Cosette, who’d told him she had to go after talking to him for about five minutes, because she was expecting a call from Marius.

Enjolras sighed as he hung up and padded across the hall to pay Combeferre a visit. He was sitting on his bed, his nose in a book on insects, obviously completely engrossed. Enjolras silently sat down at his feet, waiting until Combeferre reached for his bookmark and looked up.

“Was Cosette busy?” he asked, smiling at him.

“Marius,” Enjolras only said.

“What exactly is it that you don’t like about him?” Combeferre asked curiously.

Enjolras shrugged. It wasn’t that he actively disliked Marius, he just didn’t want Cosette to get hurt. Admittedly, it was unlikely to happen, knowing Marius. “I don’t know,” Enjolras said, “I mean, she could do worse.”

Combeferre tilted his head, his smile growing ever wider. “Exactly,” he said.

“You think I’m being ridiculous, don’t you?” Enjolras asked.

“Maybe a little.”

“It’s just weird to see them together,” Enjolras said, shrugging. “I mean, she’s my sister.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Combeferre said.

“I know,” Enjolras mumbled, although he was pretty sure that he’d never stop feeling like he needed to protect Cosette at all costs.

They fell silent and Enjolras fetched a book from his room while Combeferre took up his insect book once again. When Enjolras opened his book, Grantaire’s Christmas card fell out. He picked it up, contemplating opening it right now. It was basically Christmas already anyway.

Combeferre shot him a look, shaking his head the slightest bit. Enjolras sighed, put it down and started reading.

It took him a while to realise that he’d been reading the same page over and over again. His thoughts kept drifting back to Marius and Cosette, and Grantaire and Eponine arm in arm at the Christmas party, and Courfeyrac and Jehan and how happy they were when they were together, how much Courfeyrac seemed to miss Jehan, how often he sent him texts, smiling when Jehan’s replies came almost instantly every time.

Enjolras put down his book. “’Ferre, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Combeferre put his book down as well, his expression curious.

“Do you ever want to… be with someone?” Enjolras asked. He wasn’t quite sure how to phrase it, especially since he’d never actually talked about this kind of thing with anyone. He’d touched on the topic with Cosette once or twice, but he usually just avoided it.

Combeferre frowned, thinking about his question. “How do you mean?” he asked eventually.

“Well, just in general. You know, like… the others.” Enjolras chewed on his lip. “I mean, Courfeyrac said you didn’t want to, but aren’t you ever curious?”

“Not exactly,” Combeferre said slowly. “I did kiss Courfeyrac once, because I was curious. I thought I wasn’t normal, you know? I thought there was something seriously wrong with me, because I didn’t care much about girls or boys or dating or any of that. Courfeyrac was helping me a lot back then. He obviously had his own issues, but he was always there for me.” Combeferre smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “Anyway, I’ll tell you what he told me. Just do whatever you’re comfortable with. If you feel like you want to try something, then do it, if you don’t, then don’t. There’s nothing wrong with either.”

Enjolras nodded. It sounded easy in theory. “I just don’t really know what I want.”

“You’re seventeen, you’re not supposed to know what you want,” Combeferre mused.

“You’re wise beyond your years,” Enjolras said lightly.

“May I ask… what brought this on?”

“I’m not sure,” Enjolras mumbled. He just kept thinking about these things, more than he had the last couple of years, even more now that he was practically surrounded by couples.

Combeferre hummed thoughtfully. “No one in particular who,” Combeferre smirked, “struck your fancy?” He eyed Grantaire’s Christmas card that Enjolras had placed on his bedside table.

Enjolras’ eyes widened. “No,” he said quickly. “You’re worse than Courfeyrac.” At least he was used to the teasing from him, but he needed Combeferre on his side, not on Courfeyrac’s.

“I’m really not,” Combeferre said and picked up his book again.

Enjolras huffed out a laugh. “But nearly.”

“No,” Combeferre muttered, “not even nearly.”

Enjolras leaned back against the headboard, fingers tapping against the cover of his book, humming a Christmas carol that he didn’t even know that name of but that Courfeyrac had kept singing during the last couple of days.

“Finally feeling Christmassy, hm?” Combeferre asked, his eyes never leaving his book.

“A little,” Enjolras said, eyes darting back to Grantaire’s card. He just really wanted to know what it said, especially since Grantaire was technically still mad at him, and the curiosity was killing him.

“You have horrible self-control,” Combeferre mumbled. “Go on, I won’t tell anyone.”

“You’re a true friend,” Enjolras whispered and reached for the envelope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll keep Christmas short so Grantaire is back in the picture again soon, but the whole Enjolras/Combeferre/Courfeyrac friendship is important to me, too, what I'm trying to say is... bear with me.  
> Also, thank you so much for all the kudos and comments I got for the last chapter, you're all wonderful!


	15. Chapter 15

Grantaire had simply scrawled Enjolras’ name on the envelope, but Enjolras could see that he’d made an effort to try and make it look neat.

Enjolras could feel Combeferre’s eyes following him as he opened it and pulled out a hand-drawn card. There was a sleigh on it and in it sat a caricature of Enjolras, smiling happily as he held on to the reins of the reindeer pulling it. He couldn’t even imagine how long it must have taken Grantaire to draw similar cards for all of their friends.

Enjolras flipped the card open and started to read.

_Right so I’m not actually good at writing cards_ , it said, _but I guess I’m supposed to say something like Merry Christmas and all that, I hope you have fun with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Happy New Year, too, it probably won’t be as shitty as this one, so that’s cool._

_Anyway, I’ll see you in a bit and then you can tell me all about Christmas with Courf’s crazy family. Or maybe I’ll call you, because I’ll probably be bored as hell at my grandparents’, who knows._

It was signed with a cursive R. Under it, with a different pen, he’d added: _Okay, since I’ve managed to piss you off again, I should probably apologise, too._

_And thanks for the present. I haven’t opened it yet, but yeah, thanks for that._

Enjolras smirked, which he didn’t even notice until he heard Combeferre snort. “What’s so funny?” Enjolras asked.

“You should see your face,” Combeferre said lowly.

Enjolras frowned. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Nothing,” Combeferre replied, “but obviously Grantaire’s card was amusing?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras mumbled and handed the card to Combeferre, who first inspected the drawing with a gentle smile.

“That’s a very nice picture.”

“He’s really talented.”

“He is,” Combeferre agreed. “It’s a shame his parents won’t let him go to art school.”

“Yeah, why don’t they?” Enjolras asked.

“I’m not exactly sure, I’ve never actually talked to him about it. As you can imagine, he isn’t too fond of the topic. But just imagine asking your parents to send you to art school. What would they say?”

Enjolras nodded. He could imagine it all too well.

“I met Grantaire’s parents once,” Combeferre continued, “and his father is– well, he’s not exactly a warm and caring person. His mother seems kind, but I always thought she might find Grantaire’s father a little too intimidating to contradict him or to take Grantaire’s side.”

Enjolras sighed. There were so many things he didn’t know about Grantaire – things he _should_ know. “I’m an ass, aren’t I?” he asked.

“I daresay that sometimes you come on a little too strong when it might be better to give him a break.”

“I don’t mean to,” Enjolras said. Sometimes it just seemed to him that Grantaire _wanted_ to argue with him.

“I know.” Combeferre took off his glassed and started cleaning them with his shirtsleeve. “I’m not sure if Grantaire knows that, though.”

“I should apologise.”

“Well, you have his number,” Combeferre said and shot him a look that very explicitly asked him to stop behaving like a kindergartener. Enjolras wasn’t quite sure how Combeferre did it, but it was a little scary at times.

He only nodded, grabbed for the card and retreated to his room without another word.

* * *

He spent a long while staring at his phone, then he spent a while just staring at the little green button next to Grantaire’s number, before he eventually hit it and dialled.

Grantaire answered on the second ring with a surprised, “Enjolras?”

“Yeah, hi,” Enjolras muttered, nervously twining a stray curl around his finger. “Are you busy?”

He could hear chatter and laughter in the background, but then a door slammed shut and it grew quiet. “Not at all. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Enjolras could almost see him smirking. “I just wanted to say thank you for your card.”

“Right, I could be wrong, but as far as I know Courfeyrac does not live in a different time zone where it’s Christmas already.”

“Well, he doesn’t.” He hadn’t thought this through. At least Grantaire couldn’t see how embarrassed he looked right now.

“You were supposed to wait,” Grantaire scolded, but didn’t sound like he was actually angry. If anything, he sounded nervous. And maybe slightly amused. It was hard to tell, really. “But whatever, I’m glad you liked it.”

“I did,” Enjolras confirmed.

“Cool,” Grantaire mumbled. There was a pause, then Grantaire spoke up again. “I haven’t opened your present yet.”

“Yeah, I had no help with that one, you’re probably going to hate it.”

Grantaire chuckled. “I’m sure I won’t.”

Enjolras frowned, something that Jehan had said not to long ago coming to his mind. He shook his head. “Well, yeah, I just wanted to say thank you.” A lie, but he really didn’t know what else to say. _I’m sorry, but everything about you is driving me nuts?_ That was hardly appropriate. Combeferre would probably give him more than just a terrifying look if he heard.  

He could hear Grantaire suck in a deep breath at the other end of the line. “Enjolras…”

“Yeah?” He wasn’t sure what was coming but it couldn’t be good. Not when Grantaire said his name with such a hint on exasperation as he just had. He was used to it, it was the same tone he used when he was telling Enjolras that he was arguing like a rich upper-class white boy. Enjolras didn’t like it one bit. Although maybe Grantaire was right sometimes, but really only sometimes.

“Can I ask you something?” Grantaire asked, sounding timid now.

Enjolras frowned. “Of course.”

“Promise not to yell.”

“I promise.”

“Promise you won’t be pissed off.”

“I promise.”

“Promise you won’t-”

“Grantaire, just spit it out already.”

“Okay, look,” Grantaire started, “it’s just… most of the time I think that you probably hate me or just barely tolerate me, and then you buy me a fucking Christmas present and call me just to say thanks for my card, you know, a text would have been more than enough, especially since we sort of… I don’t know, we were on bad terms, I guess. Anyway, so maybe we’re friends, yeah? But then I’m kinda waiting for you to yell at me at any given moment, so can you please do me a favour and just decide what you want me to be? It’s okay if you decide that you want to hate me, I’ll get out of your hair. Or maybe you want to be friend, but Enjolras, then just be my fucking friend.”

Enjolras didn’t know what to say. He had no idea where all of this was coming from. “But we _are_ friends,” he eventually spluttered.

“Then maybe you should start acting like we are,” Grantaire said, “because it’s not fair when you pick a fight about something completely ridiculous and then refuse to talk to me for days.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Enjolras mumbled. There, he’d said it.

“And I’m sorry about whatever it was that upset you, I don’t even know how I keep doing that.”

“You’re just…” Enjolras paused. There were a lot of ways to end that sentence, but nothing that came to his mind was the right thing to say at the moment. His eyes fell back on Grantaire’s card. “You’re so talented.”

“Okay,” Grantaire said. “I don’t really see what that has to do with anything, but thanks? I guess.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re always so cynical about school and life and, well, everything. You can go places with your art.”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire whined, “I honestly don’t want to have this conversation over the phone, but really, if you’d met my dad, you wouldn’t be saying this. Just trust me on that.” He sighed. “Anyway, I’m not going to change, so you better just get used to it.”

“Would it kill you to give me a chance to convince you?”

“Convince me of what? That I’m going to be anything more than a waiter at some shitty restaurant? Or that you’re going to change the world?” Grantaire snorted. “That’s not going to happen, okay? But I know that if there’s anyone out there who could, well, then that’s you. That much I believe in.”

“You do?” Enjolras asked.

“Yeah, of course I do.” He sounded so convinced that Enjolras didn’t doubt his sincerity for a second. “Although you do have to work on your arguments,” Grantaire added. “A lot.”

“My arguments are perfectly sound.”

“They’re not and you know it.”

Enjolras sighed. “Maybe you could help me with that.”

“Yeah, I would, but that’s usually the point where you start yelling at me.”

“Well, maybe I’ll just stop yelling at you.”

“You won’t. It’s what you do. And that’s totally fine. Just don’t be an ass and hide in your room for days on end because someone contradicted you or doesn’t agree with you.”

Enjolras pursed his lips, not answering.

“You’re pouting, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” Enjolras grumbled.

He could hear Grantaire stifle a laugh. “Right,” he said lowly. “Well, if you aren’t, why don’t you tell me how it’s going with Combeferre and Courfeyrac.”

“Combeferre is reading a book about bugs and Courfeyrac is talking to Jehan on skype,” Enjolras told him and half-heartedly wrapped his duvet around himself. His room was somehow always chilly, which was probably due to the sheer size of the house. He’d spent the last few evenings in front of the fireplace in the living room with Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

“That’s lovely, but I meant in general,” Grantaire said. Enjolras could hear the smile in his voice. “Do you like it there?”

“Yeah, it’s fantastic,” Enjolras said. “Better than spending two weeks hiding from my parents.”

“Ah, I see,” Grantaire said, his voice a little muffled. It sounded like he was chewing on something.

“Are you eating?” Enjolras asked.

“Yeah, don’t mind me, my grandma just keeps making biscuits and stuff and I obviously have to try all of them.”

“Obviously,” Enjolras agreed and then listened to Grantaire prattle on about what they’d be having for dinner the next day and that he was in charge of dessert and about his grandpa’s awesome cars and that he’d gone fencing with his cousin and that he’d liked it a lot and might want to pursue it in the future.

It was how Courfeyrac found him about two hours later – still in his bed, cocooned in his duvet, his phone now plugged in, laughing hysterically about a story Grantaire had just told him.

“Are you talking to Cosette?” Courfeyrac asked and jumped onto the bed. “Hello, Cosette,” he shouted as he landed.

“It’s not Cosette,” Enjolras said, tucking part of the duvet around Courfeyrac.

“Hello, not Cosette,” Courfeyrac yelled, wiggling his eyebrows. “Who is it?”

“Tell Courf to take it down a notch,” Grantaire mumbled on the phone, “my ears are starting to bleed.”

“It’s Grantaire,” Enjolras said to Courfeyrac, which was when his phone was yanked from his hand, nearly being strangled by the power chord.

“Grantaire?” Courfeyrac asked. “Is that really you? How are you, man?”

It followed a conversation that Enjolras only heard half of and was mostly made up of Courfeyrac wheezing with laughter. Combeferre joined them at some point, probably because he’d heard Courfeyrac laughing and talked to Grantaire for a couple of minutes before he handed the phone back to Enjolras, who thought it was for the best to say goodbye now.

Grantaire was just laughing at how annoyed Enjolras sounded, but eventually managed to choke out a goodbye.

* * *

Christmas was over far too soon, although Enjolras was somewhat relieved because he was pretty sure he couldn’t possibly keep up eating as much food as Courfeyrac’s mother and sister kept making for their various Christmas meals. He dutifully called both is parents, separately, and Cosette, who seemed to be having the time of her life with Musichetta.

And even though Enjolras had promised Grantaire that he’d call him again, he only managed to phone him very quickly on New Year’s Eve. They didn’t talk for long, though, because Grantaire had to leave for a party his cousin was taking him to.

He later received a picture of Grantaire wearing a party hat and something that looked a lot like a very colourful feather boa.

Enjolras sent back a photo of Courfeyrac throwing confetti at a sleeping Combeferre. He got a smiley face in return, but that was the last text he got from Grantaire until they went back to school. Enjolras texted him a couple of times to ask how he was doing and he wasn’t exactly worried when he didn’t immediately get a reply, but he did feel somewhat uneasy.

For a second he thought that he might have done something wrong, but he couldn’t come up with anything at all.

“What are you brooding about?” Courfeyrac asked one afternoon on the weekend before they had to go back to school.

“I’m not brooding,” Enjolras said, looking up from his book. “I’m reading.”

“You haven’t turned the page during the last fifteen minutes,” Combeferre muttered.

Courfeyrac nodded. “So, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Enjolras said, decidedly turning the page and fixing Courfeyrac with a cold glance. He resumed reading, his thoughts soon drifting back to all the texts that had gone unanswered the last couple of days. He sighed. “Grantaire isn’t answering my texts.”

“Maybe he’s busy,” Combeferre answered instantly.

“Maybe he’s still hungover,” Courfeyrac added.

“You don’t think there’s something wrong, though?” Enjolras asked. He didn’t know much about Grantaire’s grandparents, but going by the way Grantaire had talked about them, they seemed to be decent enough people. Grantaire was probably just fine and Enjolras was worried for no reason.

“I’m sure everything’s just fine,” Combeferre said reassuringly. “Anyway, you’re going to see him on Monday.”

“Or Sunday evening,” Courfeyrac said, smirking. “If you’re very, very eager to see him.”

“I’m not eager to see him,” Enjolras said. He missed everyone’s company, but strangely it was Grantaire he most often thought of.

“You aren’t? So you’re just obsessing over him not texting you for no reason at all?” Courfeyrac asked. “Is there anything you’d like to tell us, Enjolras?”

Courfeyrac’s grin was growing ever smugger and Enjolras groaned. “Look, I’m just worried about a friend. He’s your friend, too.”

Courfeyrac hummed an affirmation, still grinning. “I’m here if you want to talk about your worries.”

“I just did,” Enjolras said, frowning.

“No, I meant your _other_ worries.” Courfeyrac wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “You know, the ones about not being able to stop thinking about Grantaire.”

Enjolras frown deepened. “What?”

“Dude, you’re so-”

“Courf,” Combeferre said sternly, “just leave him be.”

“Fine, be in denial, then.”

Enjolras wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was pretty damn sure that he was _not_ in denial about anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slow updates (don't go to university, kids, you won't have time for anything anymore). I'll try to update weekly, but it probably won't work too well during the next couple of weeks.  
> Thanks for sticking around!


	16. Chapter 16

It felt strange coming back to school after the holidays. Courfeyrac’s father ended up driving them back on the Saturday before classes started again, because the weather forecast was predicting heavy snowfalls for Sunday and the following days and didn’t want them to get stuck at their house.

Neither of them would have minded a few extra days off, but after they’d spent the better part of the afternoon in their common room at the table next to the window, playing board games and watching the snow fall outside, they weren’t all that disappointed anymore.

Lamarque even brought them some hot chocolate. “Smart of you to come back early,” he said, glancing out the window. “It’s getting pretty bad out there. Feuilly’s been shovelling snow all day.”

“Are they going to cancel classes if no one else shows up?” Courfeyrac asked, sounding ridiculously hopeful.

Lamarque gave him a fond smile. “Well, you’re not the only ones who are back already. And some people might even return tomorrow. Joly’s parents called me yesterday, they wanted to bring him over today as well. And I’m picking up Grantaire at the train station in an hour.”

Enjolras looked up at the mention of Grantaire’s name, but pointedly kept his mouth shut, even though he could feel Courfeyrac’s eyes boring into him.

Joly came stumbling into the common room less than half an hour later, still wrapped in his coat, a huge knitted scarf that was slung around half of his face and a knit cap. Instead of saying hello he sneezed a couple of times and let himself fall into an armchair next to their table.

“Welcome back,” Courfeyrac cooed and leaned over to pinch Joly’s cheek.

Joly grinned. “I’m glad I made it.” He sniffled and got a tissue out of his pocket. “It’s snowing like crazy out there,” he added and then proceeded to blow his noise noisily. “And I think I’m getting the flu.”

“I’ll make you some tea,” Combeferre said and got up, patting Joly’s head on the way to their little kitchenette.

“Thanks, ‘Ferre,” Joly mumbled, then he turned to Courfeyrac and Enjolras. “Did you all have nice holidays?”

They spend the rest of the time before dinner exchanging stories, then they went downstairs to eat. Even though Grantaire was supposed to be here already – at least according to Lamarque – he was neither in his room, nor did they find him in the dining hall. Lamarque, however, wasn’t there either.

“Looks like Grantaire’s train is delayed,” Enjolras mumbled as they sat down at their usual table.

Courfeyrac snorted. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Why is that funny?” Joly asked. He was still wearing his scarf and he’d had about five cups of tea since he’d got here, but he was still sneezing and sniffling as before.

“Oh, Enjolras has been complaining because Grantaire didn’t answer any of his texts during the last couple of days,” Combeferre said lightly.

“He hasn’t been answering mine either,” Joly said and shrugged. “I’d be worried if it wasn’t Grantaire. I mean, he’s never really been attached to his phone, you know? During the summer holidays two years ago none of us heard from during the first couple of weeks. He was _busy_.”

“Ah, I remember that, Jehan was actually about to ask his mum to drive him to Grantaire’s, so he could check on him,” Courfeyrac said, laughing.

Enjolras did not point out to Courfeyrac that he could have told him that a few days ago.

“Enjolras, do you know when Cosette comes back?” Joly asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon if they can get through all that snow,” Enjolras said, frowning. “Why are you asking?”

“No reason,” Joly said quickly.

“Oh, is it because she’s with Musichetta and when Cosette comes back, she comes back, too, is that it?” Courfeyrac wriggled his eyebrows at him suggestively. “I know I’ve been saying this ever since you first laid eyes on her, but you should really ask her out.”

“She’s too cool for me,” Joly answered immediately. “She’d never say yes.”

“That’s what Bossuet keeps saying,” Courfeyrac said, shaking his head. “But what are the chances that she’d say no to both of you.”

“She might even say yes to both of you,” Combeferre threw in.

Joly looked at him wide-eyed. “What?”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a little polyamory,” Courfeyrac said.

Joly only shook his head and grabbed his tray. “That’s never going to happen.”

Courfeyrac shrugged and followed him. “You never now,” he called after him.

Combeferre grinned and nudged Enjolras to get him to follow them. They were just crossing through the entrance hall when the door in the front swung open and Lamarque trotted in, holding the door for Grantaire, who came in after him, shaking snowflakes out his hair.

“Grantaire,” Joly called and ran to hug him, “I missed you.”

Grantaire patted him on the back. “Well, you have me back now. I’ve turned into a snowman, but other than that I’m the same old Grantaire you know and love.”

Joly squeezed him happily, then he let go of him, so Courfeyrac could take his turn at hugging Grantaire. Combeferre did, too, and Enjolras, thinking it was rude not to hug him as well, gave Grantaire the quickest hug ever.

Grantaire smiled at them all and picked up his bag. “Thanks for picking me up, Sir,” he said to Lamarque, who’d been watching them, managing to look only a little impatient.

“No problem at all,” Lamarque said. “I believe you can still get something to eat if you’re hungry.”

“Nah, I ate on the train,” Grantaire mumbled.

“Well, don’t stay up too late, boys,” Lamarque said, “I trust you won’t be going anywhere tonight.”

“Definitely not,” Joly muttered, accompanied by another sneeze.

“Get Joly a blanket and a cup of tea.” Lamarque patted Combeferre on the shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything.”

They all nodded and went back upstairs. Combeferre made tea for all of them and after Grantaire had dumped his bag in his room and had joined them in the common room they put on a movie and sprawled on two of their sofas with a bowl of crisps and a Tupperware box full of cookies that Grantaire had been given by his grandma.

Ten minutes into the movie Joly was asleep, curled up into a ball with his head in Grantaire’s lap. Grantaire didn’t seem to mind at all and absent-mindedly ate crisps with one hand while he patted Joly’s hair with the other.

Enjolras didn’t even realise that he was watching them and starting to wonder what it would feel like if Grantaire were to play with his hair until Grantaire looked up, smiling softly when he realised that Enjolras was looking at them. “Enjolras,” he whispered, pointing at the pile of blankets next to the TV, “get me one of those, please.”

Enjolras nodded and fetched one of the blankets, which he then tucked around Joly as carefully as he could, trying not to wake him up.

“Thank you,” Grantaire mouthed.

“No problem,” Enjolras whispered and turned around to sit back down. Now, however, Courfeyrac’s feet were in the place he’d been sitting in before he’d got up. “Seriously?”

“I need leg room,” Courfeyrac said with a shrug.

“You don’t need that much leg room,” Enjolras hissed.

Grantaire looked around, shushing them. “Don’t wake up Joly.”

“Yeah, Enjolras, don’t wake up Joly,” Courfeyrac murmured, nodding emphatically. “Just go sit with Grantaire and Joly.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but did sit down next to Grantaire, who only grinned and handed him his bowl of crisps.

* * *

“Hey there, sunshine,” Grantaire greeted him the next morning when Enjolras joined him in the dining hall.

Enjolras grumbled a greeting and sat down next to him. Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Joly apparently had had breakfast early this morning and had deemed it wise not to wake up Enjolras, which he really did appreciate, but now he’d nearly ended up missing breakfast, because he’d forgot to set his alarm. The only reason he’d woken up was because he’d heard Courfeyrac laugh out in the hallway and instead of turning over and sleeping a little more he’d checked his clock.

Needless to say, he’d stumbled out of bed and had quickly pulled on a jumper, just to sprint down to the dining room. He tried not to think too much about the fact that he was still wearing pyjama trousers.

Thankfully the dining hall was mostly empty, except for a group of girls and Grantaire, who only smirked but didn’t otherwise comment on his ridiculous outfit.

“All trains are cancelled,” Grantaire said conversationally. “Bossuet texted Joly earlier, he’s snowed in.”

“What about everyone else?” Enjolras asked curiously. He hadn’t even taken a look out the window this morning, but it sounded like it was bad out there.

“Jehan’s on his way,” Grantaire said, “I’m not sure about Bahorel and Marius, though. I’d ask them, but I kinda lost my phone.”

Well, that explained a lot. “How did you manage to lose your phone?”

“I went to a party with my cousin and I haven’t seen it ever since.” Grantaire shrugged. “My cousin said he might be able to get it back for me, but until then I’m phoneless.”

Enjolras nodded. “Well, I guess we’ll see who shows up.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire mumbled. He obviously was done eating, he actually had been done even before Enjolras had shown up, but he didn’t seem to have anywhere else to be.

“You don’t have to stick around here,” Enjolras said anyway. He didn’t want Grantaire to feel like he had to keep him company.

Grantaire shrugged. “Don’t really have anything else to do,” he muttered.

They fell silent then, Grantaire staring at the wall, tapping his foot restlessly and Enjolras silently finished his breakfast, wracking his brain for something to say, because the prolonged silence that was stretching out between them was making him more and more uncomfortable.

“So,” he started and Grantaire immediately turned to look at him, “did you… have a good time with your grandparents?”

“Yeah, it was cool. I mean, I basically told you everything already when you call med me last week.” Grantaire ran his fingers through his hair, which seemed to be a nervous habit of his. “I never asked you, did Courfeyrac and Combeferre like their presents?”

“Oh yeah, they did.” Or at least they’d pretended to like them. In any case, Enjolras was forever indebted to Grantaire for helping him out.

“Cool,” Grantaire said, still tapping his foot. “We’re, um, we’re cool, too, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Enjolras said.

“Cool,” Grantaire said again.

Once again, they fell silent, but Enjolras was saved from thinking of yet another thing to say to him, because Courfeyrac came bouncing into the dining hall and threw his arms around the both of them.

“Go put on some warm clothes, kids, we’re gonna build a snowman,” Courfeyrac said, hopping up and down excitedly.

“But it’s cold outside,” Enjolras protested. He knew that if he went outside, he’d come back in feeling like he’d never be warm again. He’d rather wrap himself in his duvet than freeze to death.

Grantaire snorted. “Weakling.”

“Grantaire, you’re coming with me, right?” Courfeyrac asked hopefully.

“Yeah, sure,” Grantaire said lowly.

“You’re my only true friend,” Courfeyrac whispered. “’Ferre and Joly are talking about quantum physics, and you know how much I love quantum physics, but we can’t ignore all that snow, it’s right there and it’s calling to me.”

“Right,” Grantaire said and reached up to ruffle Courfeyrac’s hair. “Let’s go.”

Enjolras went upstairs with them, not at all willing to set a foot outside, but was manhandled into his coat, one mitten and one shoe, which was when he relented and promised to come with them if they let him dress himself, because he was still wearing pyjama trousers, which Grantaire and Courfeyrac hadn’t seemed to care about in the slightest.

As Enjolras had already pointed out, it was freezing outside, but apparently they weren’t the only ones who didn’t care. There was a group of kids involved in a snowball fight over by the football field and he could already spot two other snowmen and one that was just being built.

The first thing Courfeyrac did was whack a handful of snow over each of their heads, then he started on his snowman. After a while, Grantaire wandered off to find some stones and sticks to decorate him and Enjolras stayed behind with Courfeyrac.

Cars kept pulling up to the school and when they went inside to have lunch around noon the dining hall was already a lot fuller than it had been the evening before.

When they were in line, Courfeyrac leaned over the counter. “Do you happen to have a carrot? Like, an uncooked, un…maimed carrot?”

“Unmaimed,” Grantaire echoed, shaking his head.

Lamarque stepped up behind Courfeyrac. “What do you need a carrot for?”

“I want to eat it, Sir,” Courfeyrac said, visibly struggling to keep a straight face.

“You don’t want to use it to decorate a snowman, by any chance?” Lamarque asked, his eyebrows raised. “Because I suppose I don’t have to tell you that that would be a waste of food.”

“I promise, we’re going to eat it, I’ll even provide you with photographic proof, Sir,” Courfeyrac said seriously.

“Well, I can’t wait to see that photograph,” Lamarque muttered and personally went to fetch Courfeyrac a carrot.

Courfeyrac’s smile was blinding.

* * *

“Okay, so who’s going to eat the carrot,” Grantaire asked, holding up said carrot, watching as Courfeyrac stuck sticks into their snowman’s head to give him hair.

Courfeyrac shrugged and took the carrot from Grantaire to stick it in its rightful place, then he took his phone out of his pocket. “Doesn’t he look super pretty?”

“Courf, it’s a snowman, he looks like a fucking snowman,” Grantaire grumbled.

“But a super pretty snowman,” Courfeyrac insisted. “Now, someone bite off his nose or something, and I’ll take the picture.”

“Why don’t _you_ bite it off and _I’ll_ take the picture,” Enjolras suggested.

Grantaire huffed impatiently and gently pushed Enjolras out of the way. “Let me do the honours,” he said.

Courfeyrac snapped a few pictures before Grantaire started eating the rest of the carrot, no questions asked. “It looks so sad without a nose,” Grantaire said between bites.

“We can find him another nose,” Enjolras said, looking around for something they could use.

“Yeah, we should get-”

Courfeyrac never told them what they should get, though, because he saw Jehan running towards them, and took off midsentence to meet him halfway.

“Guys, I’m going inside with Jehan, find our frosty friend a nose, okay?” Courfeyrac called and stalked off with Jehan in tow.

“We should go inside, too,” Enjolras mumbled. He was so cold, he wasn’t even sure if his feet were still part of his body.

“You want to leave poor Frosty noseless?” Grantaire asked, grinning. “Courfeyrac will be so disappointed.”

“He’ll survive,” Enjolras said and grabbed Grantaire by the sleeve. “Come on, I’m cold.”

“Aw, I can help you warm up,” Grantaire said, his eyes glinting. He bent down and scooped up some snow. “Run.”

Enjolras did, knowing exactly what was going to happen with that snow if he didn’t, but Grantaire’s snowball still hit him right in the neck. He yelped and ducked behind one of the toolsheds, where he gathered a handful of snow and waited for Grantaire to appear.

When he didn’t, he poked his head around the corner and was rewarded with a handful of snow in the face. He did manage to throw his snow at Grantaire, who screeched and started running. Enjolras was right at his heels.

Enjolras caught up with him easily and, instead of turning this into a snowball fight, he tackled Grantaire and they landed in the snow, both of them laughing breathlessly.

“You really stepped up your game there,” Grantaire said and half-heartedly shovelled some snow onto Enjolras’ head.

Enjolras winced. “That was so unnecessary,” he whispered. He looked down at Grantaire, who’d lost his beanie a few feet away, at his blue eyes and his slightly crooked nose, his gaze wandering down to his lips, just a few inches away from his.

If he tilted his head just a little, if he bent down a bit, he could easily kiss him. Just like that.

Enjolras blinked rapidly, shaking the thought out of his mind. Why would he ever want to kiss Grantaire? He didn’t, he really didn’t. He didn’t even know where that thought had come from. It was probably because Courfeyrac wouldn’t stop teasing him.

Enjolras looked at him for a few long seconds, then he sat up. “We should go inside.”

Grantaire cleared his throat, not looking at Enjolras when he scrambled to his feet, brushing some snow off himself. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

 


	17. Chapter 17

They trudged back towards the front entrance in, both of them covered in snow and shivering. Enjolras was pretty sure that he’d never feel warm again in his entire life.

When they’d made it up to their floor, dripping all over the place, Courfeyrac and Jehan came walking out of the common room, holding hands, both of them staring at them wide-eyed. “What the hell happened to you guys?” Jehan asked, an amused smile playing around his lips.

Courfeyrac chuckled. “Did you make out in a snowdrift?”

Enjolras only rolled his eyes and stomped off towards his room, but he could hear Courfeyrac ask, “No, really, what happened?” before he slammed the door to his room shut.

Enjolras shrugged off his coat and kicked off his shoes, a puddle starting to form under them immediately, then he peeled off his cold, wet jeans and socks. He was still shivering when he’d put on dry clothes and had crawled into bed, his duvet and his blanket wrapped around himself.

When there was a knock on his door a while later, Enjolras barely even noticed because he’d been staring at the ceiling, brooding, trying to figure out what the hell had happened earlier. He’d definitely thought about kissing Grantaire. Even though it had only been for a split second, the thought had been there and now it wouldn’t go away.

“Enjolras?” Cosette’s voice called from outside the door.

Enjolras made an attempt at sitting up, but soon realised that he probably shouldn’t even try to untangle himself from his blankets. “Come in.”

Cosette did, grinning when she found him all wrapped up on his bed. “Aw, look at you, you little blanket monster. Are you cold?”

“We built a snowman,” Enjolras muttered, rolling his eyes when she silently stared him down until he eventually budged and scooted over.

Cosette smiled and gave him a hug. “I missed you.”

Enjolras hummed in agreement.

“I missed you, too, Cosette, you’re the best sister ever and I’ll never spend Christmas without you again,” Cosette said in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah, that,” Enjolras mumbled, trying for a genuine smile, but he was pretty sure it came out a little lopsided.

Cosette looked at him, her eyes narrowed. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Enjolras said immediately. He felt bad for lying to her, but he just didn’t want to talk about it right now.

“You know, this look you have going on right there,” Cosette said, poking his cheek, “it might fool our parents, but not me. Tell me.”

“No,” Enjolras grumbled and tugged his blanket over his face, “just let it go.”

“Enjolras, come on,” Cosette cooed, “don’t be a little mister grumpy face. Maybe I can help you.”

Right. Maybe she could. “Something happened,” Enjolras said slowly. That was basically all he knew. _Something_ had happened, but if Cosette asked him what it was, he wouldn’t have a good answer.

“Okay,” Cosette said, nodding. “What?”

Enjolras shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, it was probably nothing.”

“That’s so incredibly specific,” Cosette said. She propped her chin up on Enjolras’ knees, smiling sweetly, waiting in vain for him to continue. “Well, if that’s it, I’m going to go say hello to Marius now.”

“I didn’t know Marius was back,” Enjolras said lowly.

“He sent me a text to let me know about five minutes ago, I’m not surprised that he didn’t tell you,” Cosette mused. “You know, he’s a bit scared of you.”

“Scared?” Enjolras echoed. “Of me?”

“Well, maybe _scared_ isn’t the right work, but he definitely thinks that you might kill him in his sleep at some point.”

Enjolras frowned. As far as he knew he’d never done anything to Marius. They’d once had a bit of a disagreement when they’d done a project in history class together, but that was the only thing he could think of. “Why?”

“He says you keep glaring at him,” Cosette said, her lips twitching. “And don’t even try to deny it,” she added when Enjolras opened his mouth to, well, deny it.

“I glare at everyone,” Enjolras said instead. “It’s my default look.” Or so Cosette kept saying.

Cosette snorted. “True, I’ve got my fair share of glares. Anyway, just try to be nice to him in the future, yeah?”

“I’m always nice,” Enjolras protested.

“No, you’re not, and that’s fine, just stop scaring my boyfriend.” She patted him on the head and waltzed back to the door. “And don’t forget, if you ever want to talk about that thing that’s probably nothing but that bothers you anyway, you know where to find me.”

“Marius’ room?” Enjolras asked, an eyebrow raised.

Cosette stuck her tongue out at him and skipped out of his room.

Enjolras sighed and sunk back into his pile of pillows, his thoughts immediately wandering back to those goddamned blue eyes staring back at him in wonder.

* * *

Enjolras wasn’t even surprised when he woke up with a stuffy nose and a sore throat the next morning. He dragged himself downstairs to breakfast, knocking on Jehan’s door on the way, just in case he wasn’t awake yet.

Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Marius and Cosette were sitting at their table, Jehan obviously really hadn’t made it to breakfast yet, Bossuet might not even have made it to school, and there was no trace of Joly, Bahorel and Grantaire.

“Where is everyone?” Enjolras asked as he sat down.

“Good morning to you, too,” Courfeyrac said, smiling broadly. “Did you wake up Jehan, by any chance?”

“I knocked on his door,” Enjolras mumbled. His voice was definitely starting to fail him, because every word he said sounded more like an indistinct croak than anything else.

“Are you getting sick?” Combeferre asked worriedly. “Joly’s sick, too.”

“Shouldn’t have gone frolicking in the snow with Grantaire for so long,” Courfeyrac said and patted him on the back.

“Grantaire?” Cosette asked, her eyes widening. “Is that why you-”

Enjolras glared at her, which silenced her quickly enough, but she was still staring at him with a knowing smile. “Is he sick, too?” Enjolras asked casually.

“I don’t think so,” Courfeyrac said. “He’s probably with Bahorel.”

Enjolras hummed and longingly stared at breakfast buffet. It seemed as if it was miles away from him and right now he didn’t even have the energy to stand up.

“I’ll get you some tea,” Combeferre said, ruffling his hair when he passed him. “Do you want anything else?”

“A muffin, please,” Enjolras said, shivering a little. He was starting to regret not putting on a warmer jumper, but at least the tea would warm him up a little.

“Just a muffin?”

Enjolras nodded. “I’m not that hungry.”

Combeferre brought him his breakfast, watching him with a worried expression. Jehan showed up after a while, looking tired, but smiling at them when he sat down.

Enjolras managed to talk Combeferre out of getting Lamarque and telling him that Enjolras couldn’t go to classes today because he was sick. It was just a cold anyway. Enjolras made it through the morning and through lunch, ignoring the looks his friends kept shooting him every time he sneezed or coughed.

He barely ate anything at lunch, even though Grantaire, who’d ended up in the chair next to him, kept trying to get him to eat a couple of chips.

“Come on, Enjolras, stop being difficult,” Grantaire teased, pushing at his plate.

“He’s always being difficult when he’s sick,” Cosette whispered to him. Apparently she’d permanently migrated to their table now.

Enjolras sighed. “Just leave me alone. Swallowing hurts.”

“Do you want me to check if they have some soup?” Jehan asked.

“Or do you maybe just want to go to bed?” Combeferre leaned over, giving him a stern look. “You look like hell, Enjolras.”

“He’s right,” Courfeyrac said, rubbing Enjolras’ back. “’Ferre’s gonna take you to Lamarque and tell him that you’re sick and then you can sleep for a bit.”

Enjolras protested at first, because it was _really just a cold_ , but eventually gave in because the thought of just sleeping for a while sounded way too tempting, and let Combeferre drag him to Lamarque, explaining that Enjolras wasn’t feeling well and should probably go to bed.

Lamarque agreed instantly. “I thought you looked a little pale this morning,” he said.

“It’s just a cold,” Enjolras grumbled. He should get that sentence tattooed on his face.

“Well, just take the afternoon off,” Lamarque said, turning to Combeferre. “Will you take him upstairs, Combeferre? I just went to check on Joly, he’s feeling a little better, but do me a favour and ask him if he needs anything.”

Combeferre nodded. “I will.”

“Enjolras, I’ll come check on you after classes. Let someone know if you need anything.”

Enjolras didn’t end up needing anything, he slept all afternoon after Combeferre had tucked him into bed. Lamarque came by just before dinner as he’d promised, brought him a cup of tea and told him that he’d make sure he got some soup for dinner.

Enjolras only smiled thankfully because he was afraid that if he spoke it would just sound like some kind of inhuman screech.

When the door opened again, Enjolras somehow expected Combeferre to come in, but it was in fact Grantaire, who was balancing a tray with a bowl of chicken noodle soup that he carefully handed to Enjolras.

“How are you feeling?” Grantaire asked, awkwardly hovering next to his bed.

“I’m okay,” Enjolras croaked, which was immediately followed by a coughing fit. “’s just a cold.”

Grantaire nodded. “Yeah, I kinda feel like that’s my fault.”

“It’s really not,” Enjolras whispered, because hey, whispering still worked quite well. He ate a spoonful of soup, eyes still on Grantaire. “Sit down.”

Grantaire did, looking around in Enjolras’ room, humming a song Enjolras didn’t know. Enjolras ate a little more of his soup, but abandoned it completely in favour of looking at Grantaire after a while. He’d had his hair cut over the holidays, now Enjolras could see a little scar on his temple that had always been hidden behind his curls – or maybe Enjolras had just never really looked.

Grantaire’s eyes snapped back to him and he frowned. “Are you done eating already? I don’t have to feed you, right?”

Enjolras shook his head and dutifully took up his spoon again, but didn’t get to eat anything, because his door flew open and Courfeyrac and Jehan came inside, Courfeyrac squeezing himself next to Enjolras, stroking his hair. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Enjolras snapped, but it did sound a little feeble.

“You’ve barely eaten anything,” Courfeyrac said and nudged him. “Have some more.”

Enjolras didn’t tell him that he’d been about to do just that before he’d barged into his room, but quietly finished his soup, which seemed to satisfy Courfeyrac. “Combeferre has your homework,” he told him when he was done. “You can copy mine if you want.”

“Can I copy it, too?” Grantaire asked hopefully.

“If you get sick and need rest, then yes, absolutely,” Courfeyrac said, grinning at him.

“You can copy mine,” Jehan whispered and gave Grantaire a hug. “Bossuet’s finally made it back, by the way.”

Grantaire then left to say hello to Bossuet and Enjolras was left with Courfeyrac and Jehan, who were trying to entertain him and stayed until Enjolras’ eyes started fluttering shut again, which was when Jehan tucked a blanket around him and Courfeyrac promised they’d tell Lamarque that he was fine and just needed some sleep.

Enjolras ended up sleeping through breakfast the next day, but found a note from Lamarque pinned to his door, saying that he should definitely take another day off and that he’d check on him again during lunch break.

When Enjolras padded down the hall to the common room to at least make himself some tea and get some crackers to eat, he found Joly sitting on one of the sofas, buried under a pile of blankets, watching soap operas on TV.

Enjolras joined him, wrapped in a blanket as well, soon completely engrossed in the story of the scheming and superficial members of some fictional family that shouldn’t have been as entertaining as it was. Apparently there was some kind of marathon on, because when noon rolled around and Lamarque brought them lunch, they were halfway through the fourth episode, discussing whether or not the blonde protagonist had actually murdered her brother’s lover or if someone had set her up.

“You two seem to be doing better,” Lamarque said cheerfully.

“I can talk again,” Enjolras said, although his voice was still pretty hoarse. “Sort of, at least,” he added, a little more quiet now.

Lamarque smiled down at him. “I’m glad to hear that.” He nodded at someone in the doorway and turned to leave.

“Ah, but Enjolras, you were a lot more fun where you were mute and grumpy.” Grantaire flopped down onto the sofa in the spot between Enjolras and Joly. “Musichetta says hi,” he said to Joly and handed him a chocolate cookie.

Joly giggled and took the cookie from him, his cheeks flushed scarlet.

“She’s basically screaming _ask me out_ at you, why won’t you do it already?” Grantaire asked.

“Because,” Joly whispered and broke off a piece of the cookie. “You know why.”

Grantaire sighed. “Yeah, okay, I get it.”

Enjolras couldn’t say the same, but didn’t want to pry either, so he turned his attention back to the TV, dimly aware that Grantaire shouldn’t be sitting here with them because he actually had classes to go to, but was apparently too interested in blonde protagonist’s affairs and murder charges to leave.

They never learned what exactly happened to her, though, because the marathon was over and another soap opera started, this one not quite as exciting as the other one and Enjolras soon started to get tired again. He must have fallen asleep at some point, though, because when he woke up again, there was an arm wrapped around him that definitely hadn’t been there before. 

Enjolras opened his eyes, just a little, and yeah, it was definitely Grantaire’s chest his head was pillowed on. He screwed his eyes shut again and shifted a little, at which he could feel Grantaire’s grip loosen a bit until he’d settled again and he started stroking Enjolras’ upper arm with his thumb.

He tried his hardest not to sigh contently and, most importantly, not to think too much about how nice it felt to have Grantaire’s arm wrapped around him. Because it did feel really, really nice and Grantaire was warm and comfortable and Enjolras definitely shouldn’t be so strangely okay with this.

He just concentrated on the voices on TV, and soon enough he fell asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long and I'm sorry it's a bit short, uni is still kicking my ass and stuff keeps coming up, but I'll do my best to update again in a week.


	18. Chapter 18

“Oh my god, look at them. They’re so adorable. I knew it, aw, don’t you just want to lock them in a room together so they can–”

“Shh, don’t wake them up,” Combeferre whispered.

“Just let me take a picture real quick.”

Enjolras wasn’t sure if he wanted to open his eyes and hit Courfeyrac in the face or stay right where he was, still cradled against Grantaire’s chest, his eyes screwed shut tightly.

“No, seriously, Courf,” Grantaire grumbled, his voice a little rough from sleep, “don’t wake them up. And stop taking pictures for the love of fuck. Joly’s gonna kill you in some ninja kind of way. And Enjolras will help him.”

“Whoops, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, ‘Aire, but seriously, he’s so cute,” Courfeyrac cooed.

“By the way, Javert missed you in class, Grantaire,” Combeferre muttered. “I told him you were probably not feeling well either, so maybe you should make an attempt to look a little… sicker.”

“I’ll try my best,” Grantaire whispered, his hand on Enjolras’ back shifting ever so slightly. “Now go away.”

“This is the common room, we’re allowed to be here,” Courfeyrac protested.

“We’re leaving,” Combeferre said.

Enjolras could hear Courfeyrac grumbling until the door clicked shut behind them.

Grantaire shifted again, sighing quietly. Yeah, Enjolras should really move, he couldn’t use Grantaire as a pillow forever, as comfortable as he was.

He was just about to open his eyes when something tugged at his hair. He hadn’t tied it together when he’d got up, so it fell loosely down his shoulders. There was another tug, fingers combing through his hair, slowly and carefully, and not entirely unwelcome.

Actually it felt really nice. Enjolras sighed contently.

Grantaire’s hand froze.

_Shit_. He’d done that out loud, hadn’t he? Enjolras sat up slowly, turning around to sneak a glance at Grantaire, who looked absolutely mortified.

“I’m sorry,” Grantaire whispered. “I didn’t mean to…” He quickly jumped up, his feet tangling in Enjolras’ blanket. “Shit, sorry.”

Enjolras wasn’t even sure what exactly he was apologising for, but Grantaire made a quick escape before he got a chance to ask. Enjolras settled back against the couch, too groggy to just run after him and ask him.

He wrapped his blanket around himself, pondering.

* * *

Enjolras needed to talk to someone. He needed to talk to someone soon, because he felt like his brain was about to explode.

It had been two weeks since he’d been sick, but there was definitely something wrong with him. He was sitting in the common room with all of his friends, it was Friday evening and they were celebrating Jehan’s birthday, which actually was a pretty quiet affair in comparison to Bahorel’s birthday party a couple of months ago. Grantaire was playing cards with Joly, Bossuet and Bahorel. And Enjolras couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Enjolras didn’t know why, but he was right there and he was laughing, throwing his head back every time he did and Enjolras simply couldn’t look away.

They’d mostly seen each other in class and during breaks during the last two weeks and Enjolras had tried to act as normally as possible around him, because even though he wasn’t sure what Grantaire had been so upset about, he really didn’t want to start _another_ fight. Grantaire was on his best behaviour as well, kept joking as he always did, but something – and Enjolras wasn’t sure what – but something was definitely different. He didn’t try to rile him up at every chance he got. He didn’t deliberately start arguments anymore.

And Enjolras thought about him. A lot. And he wanted to talk to him. He wanted to talk to him about the silliest things, he’d spent the entire two hours of their art lesson on Wednesday watching Grantaire do his assignment, completely neglecting his own, he wasn’t even annoyed anymore when Grantaire started playing the guitar at the most obnoxious hours. He actually stopped whatever he was doing to listen to him.

Enjolras watched as Eponine made herself comfortable in Grantaire’s lap, whispering something to him that made him snort and roll his eyes.

Enjolras wasn’t quite sure what exactly made him feel so queasy, but he definitely didn’t want to watch them anymore all of a sudden. He turned away, trying to listen to the discussion Combeferre was having with Musichetta instead, which was when Jehan put his hand on his arm.

 “Are you okay?” Jehan asked lowly. “You look…” He tilted his head. “Unwell.”

“Like you’re having an existential crisis,” Courfeyrac said, smiling knowingly.

“No, I’m fine, nothing’s wrong,” Enjolras said quickly. It was dawning on him that Courfeyrac might have been right. Which he couldn’t admit. He wouldn’t. “Maybe I’m still a little sick, who knows.” He coughed, for emphasis, and stood up. “I’ll just… go find Cosette.”

She was probably with Marius, and Enjolras really didn’t want to put himself through the trauma of finding them in some kind of compromising position, but she really was the only one except for Combeferre he felt like talking to right now. Cosette would know what to do, she always did.

Enjolras walked out into the hallway without any further explanation and across the hall to Marius’ door, which was open a crack. He could hear Cosette laughing inside, which meant her mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied – and God, that had been such a bad thing to think about – so Enjolras dared to knock on the frame of the door.

“Yeah?” Marius asked and Enjolras pushed the door open a little to find the two of them sitting on Marius’ bed, a laptop in Cosette’s lap.

“Hey, Enjolras,” Marius said, ducking his head a little.

“Enjolras,” Cosette said, her glance murderous, “what are you doing here?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Oh,” she said, frowning. “Yeah, sure.” She gave Marius a kiss on the cheek, handed him the laptop and took Enjolras by the hand, dragging him down the hall towards his room while Marius went back to the common room.

“You know, I thought you’d forgotten all about me,” she said when she sat down on his bed, looking at the photos and drawings Enjolras had put up with interest.

Enjolras sat down in his chair. “We see each other every day,” he said lowly.

“But we haven’t talked in such a long time,” Cosette said. “Tell me.”

“What?”

“Well, the thing you wanted to tell me,” Cosette said matter-of-factly.

Enjolras took a deep breath. He’d just tell her and she’d help him. Cosette was good at figuring things out, she’d figure this out for him. The only problem was that he just really, really, couldn’t tell her. She’d laugh. She’d tell him he was being an idiot. “There’s nothing to tell,” Enjolras said eventually and shrugged, hoping he sounded convincing. “I just wanted to talk to you. As you said, we haven’t talked in a while.”

“But Enjolras, we see each other every day,” Cosette parroted back at him. “So, this has nothing to do with that _thing_ you wouldn’t tell me about a couple of weeks ago? Or the picture Courfeyrac showed me, you know, the one of you cuddling with Grantaire, that’s _nothing to tell_ , huh?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.  

“I fell asleep,” Enjolras said defensively.

“Right,” Cosette said, nodding, “you fell asleep.”

“I did.”

“And that’s it?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“You don’t…” She shrugged. “Think of him a lot, maybe?”

Enjolras sighed wearily. “Maybe I do sometimes.”

“And what do you think about?”

Enjolras shook his head. He couldn’t tell her, it was ridiculous, he couldn’t tell her about the dream he’d had two nights ago, about Grantaire curling up next to him, fingers running through his hair. He couldn’t tell her that he’d wondered, even if it had only been for about a second, when he’d seen Jehan drop a kiss on Courfeyrac’s forehead, what it would be like if he did the same to Grantaire.

“Or don’t tell me, whatever,” Cosette said, shrugging.

“Oh great, yeah, you’re doing that thing where you pretend that you don’t care anyway to get me to tell you, because you think I want you to care, but I don’t,” Enjolras grumbled.

Cosette rolled her eyes. “You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

“You’re the one to talk.”

“At least I’m not a whiney crybaby who glares daggers at Eponine every time she dares to talk to Grantaire.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Wow, you’re not even self-aware, it’s worse than I thought.”

“Shut up,” Enjolras said gruffly, staring down at his feet.

“At least admit that you like him.”

Enjolras shook his head.

“You don’t like him or you won’t admit it?”

“Well, even if I _did_ like him, what does it matter?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you could… um, ask him out? Go on a date with him? Make out with him in a supply closet?”

Enjolras looked up at that. “What?”

“Never mind,” Cosette chirped.

“Did you make out with Pontmercy in a supply closet?”

She shrugged, giggling. “Technically we’re not allowed to be on each other’s rooms,” she said, “anyway, you can’t just pine for the rest of your life. And please don’t tell me you’re not pining because you most certainly are. It’s painful to watch.”

“Does Grantaire… I mean, has he noticed?”

“I don’t think so,” Cosette said slowly.

“But you have?” Enjolras asked.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one.”

Enjolras sighed. “So, what do I do?”

“I just told you,” Cosette said. “And I don’t mean the supply closet part. That comes later.”

“But I don’t know how to do any of that dating stuff,” Enjolras muttered. He’d never kissed anyone. Never even held anyone’s hand. This whole thing was completely ridiculous. Relationships really weren’t his thing, he didn’t even know why he was even considering the idea all of sudden.  “I don’t even know if I want to.”

“Well, I don’t think anyone can figure that out for you, Enjolras.” Cosette smiled at him. “Just make sure you know what you want before you do anything.”

Enjolras nodded, knowing he’d never do anything anyway, because he didn’t know _how_.

“Let’s go back to the common room, okay?”

Enjolras trudged after her, trying very hard not to look at Grantaire and Eponine, who’d moved to an armchair, apparently still glued together.

He went to bed early that evening, but so did Jehan, Courfeyrac trailing right behind him, so he didn’t feel too bad for leaving the party early. Grantaire, unhelpfully, asked if he was okay, the only thing he’d said to him all evening, and Enjolras nodded, eager to get back to his room.

Think about it, Cosette had said.

Right, he could do that. He could think about it. The problem was that once his mind had once gone back to thinking about kissing Grantaire, which he really shouldn’t have thought about earlier, he couldn’t think about anything else. He just wanted to know what it felt like, he wanted to know what it would be like if Grantaire wrapped his arms around him or played with his hair again.

Enjolras barely slept that night, managed to miss breakfast the next morning and barrelled right into Grantaire on his way to take a shower. Grantaire, who was wearing nothing but a towel, his hair dripping wet.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” Grantaire muttered.

Enjolras nodded, realising that he was staring at one of the drops of water running down Grantaire’s chest, which was probably one of the most embarrassing things he’d ever done. Before Grantaire could say anything else, Enjolras quickly stumbled into one of the shower cubicles, wondering when the earth would finally open up to swallow him whole to save him from all this.

* * *

“Enjolras, how is your assignment going?” Mabeuf asked, approaching Grantaire’s desk, which Enjolras was currently seated at.

“I’m not quite done yet,” Enjolras mumbled. In fact, he hadn’t even started yet, but Mabeuf didn’t need to know that.

“Maybe you should stop watching Grantaire, then.”

“Sir, he was actually waiting for me to help him, if that’s alright with you,” Grantaire said, smirking at Enjolras. “I mean, you know that Enjolras didn’t actually want to do art and I guess you don’t want his parents calling Valjean because their son failed art because he got stuck in this class.”

“It’s Monsieur Valjean, Grantaire,” Mabeuf reminded him. “And please don’t do the whole painting for Enjolras like last time,” he muttered, already turning around to walk back to his desk.

“He noticed that, didn’t he?” Grantaire mumbled, shaking his head. “And I was actually doing my worst.”

Enjolras grinned. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Grantaire whispered and continued working.

They walked back to the common room together afterwards and met Eponine down in the entrance hall. Grantaire quickly ran to say hello to her and talked to her for a minute or two, then he returned to Enjolras who’d waited for him.

“You didn’t have to wait,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras only shrugged and they continued their way upstairs. “You and Eponine…” Enjolras began, because really, his curiosity was killing him. “Are you, um, dating?”

Grantaire, to Enjolras’ surprise, started laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at _you_ , but that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Why on earth would ever even think that?”

“I don’t know, you just spend a lot of time together. And on Jehan’s birthday she was… kinda sitting in your lap.”

“But that really doesn’t mean anything,” Grantaire said, shaking his head. “You know, ‘Ponine and I, we’ve been friends for a while and we kinda helped each other through our emo phases, which was a bad time, by the way, I hope no one ever shows you a picture of me with straightened hair. I’m not really sure if Eponine has left her emo phase behind, to be honest, although now it’s more like a _I’m so lonely and depressed_ phase. Anyway… if I let you sit in my lap, would you just assume we were together?”

Enjolras blinked at him, not sure what to say. “No, I guess not,” he mumbled eventually, thinking that was probably the right answer.

“Exactly.” Grantaire chuckled. “’Ponine and I together, oh man, that would be a fucking catastrophe.”

By the time they’d sat down in the common room, Grantaire was still laughing and Enjolras was more embarrassed than ever.

“What’s so funny?” Joly asked as he came wandering into the common room behind them.

Enjolras threw Grantaire a look, hoping it was enough to get him to keep his mouth shut, but Grantaire didn’t do him that favour.

“Enjolras thought Eponine and I were dating,” Grantaire said, starting to giggle again.

“Shut up, it was a perfectly valid assumption.”

Joly snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and hid his face in a pillow. “Leave me alone.”

Someone patted his head, probably Grantaire, since he was sitting right next to him. “Stop sulking,” Grantaire muttered.

Enjolras shook his head, dumped his pillow in Grantaire lap and got up to leave, but Grantaire grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back down on the sofa.

“No, I’m serious, stop sulking,” Grantaire said, smiling at him fondly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Stay and don’t do homework with us, okay?”

“Yeah, I recorded a couple of episodes of that show we were watching, I think blonde chick might soon figure out that her sister is sleeping with her husband.”

Enjolras sighed and leaned back, trying not to think about Grantaire’s arm that was still slung around him.

* * *

“You thought I was dating Grantaire,” someone, Eponine, whispered behind him.

Enjolras turned around, trying not to look like she’d scared the shit out of him. He was in the library, trying to find a new book to read and hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t alone. “Do you always creep up on people like this?” Enjolras asked lowly.

“You thought I was dating Grantaire,” Eponine repeated, completely unfazed. “And you asked him about it.”

“So what?” Enjolras mumbled, turning back to the rows of books in front of him.

Eponine punched him in the arm. “You’re the most oblivious idiot I’ve ever laid eyes on in my entire life. And I’ve met a lot of oblivious idiots, believe me.”

“I’m sorry, okay, I just thought-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Eponine grumbled.

“Keep it down,” a voice called from the front of the library.

Eponine rolled her eyes. “Listen,” she whispered, glaring up at him, “you need to stop being an idiot, because I’m tired as fuck of you guys.”

Enjolras had no idea what she was talking about and therefore only gaped at her.

“Oblivious,” Eponine muttered, shaking her head. “Just fucking do something, because I know for a fact that he won’t.” And with that she turned around and stalked back out of the library, leaving a confused Enjolras in her wake.

_He won’t_. There was no doubt that she’d been talking about Grantaire.

Enjolras left the library without a book and walked back to their dorm, going straight into Combeferre’s room without even knocking, completely lost in thought. Combeferre was there, together with Courfeyrac, both of them brooding over a textbook.

“There is such a thing as knocking, you know?” Combeferre said lightly.

Enjolras only whined and sat down next to them, legs pulled against his chest.

Courfeyrac’s arms were around him in a matter of seconds. “What’s wrong? Did something happen? Is this about your parents?”

“Does he like me back?” Enjolras asked slowly. “Grantaire, does he like me?”

Courfeyrac pulled away, looking at him with wide eyes. Combeferre, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be surprised at all. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

“No, of course not. I just talked to Eponine and it sort of sounded like he does, but I’m not sure.” He turned to Courfeyrac. “You always know everything about everyone.”

“Enjolras,” Courfeyrac said, looking like he was trying very hard not to laugh, “I honestly don’t even know what to say to you anymore.”

Combeferre sighed. “What Courfeyrac means is that you should probably talk to Grantaire about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to update on time, I hope you're proud. Also, thank you for all your lovely comments and kudos, I feel like I'm not saying this enough, but it really means a lot.


	19. Chapter 19

It took Enjolras days to work up the courage to go talk to Grantaire, and it wasn’t only because he still wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to say to him. In fact, he didn’t make an attempt until the following Saturday evening before dinner, hoping that Grantaire might not even be in his room. Maybe he’d already gone downstairs or maybe he’d gone into town with Joly, Bossuet and the girls as he did so often.

Enjolras wasn’t that lucky, though.

Grantaire opened the door for him only a few seconds later. “Oh, hey, it’s a little early for dinner, isn’t it?”

Enjolras nodded. He wasn’t here to walk him down to the dining hall.

“So?” Grantaire asked, tilting his head. His hair was a mess today, not that it wasn’t on any other given day, but today it looked like Grantaire hadn’t even tried to make it look less like a bird’s nest. It looked really soft, though, and Enjolras caught himself imagining what it would be like to run his fingers through it.

Enjolras frowned, because Grantaire had said something to him, but his brain hadn’t quite caught up yet. “What?”

“Is there anything you need?” Grantaire asked, looking a little too amused for Enjolras’ taste.

“I…” This wasn’t going well. It wasn’t going well at all. “I just… no, I don’t need anything.”

“So you just knocked on my door because…?”

“Well, actually I was wondering if…” _Say it, say it_. “If you had any chocolate left.” _Great job, Enjolras, really, well done._

Grantaire laughed. “Yeah, sure, come in, take your pick.” Grantaire gently pushed him over to his sweets drawer. “Nothing left in the common room, huh?”

Enjolras shrugged. He had no idea if there was anything left in the common room. He stared down at Grantaire’s selection of chocolate bars, painfully aware of how close Grantaire was, right here next to him, only inches away.

“Nothing to your liking?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras took a deep breath. “To be honest, I didn’t come here for the chocolate.”

“Is this about your art assignment, because I can totally-”

“No, it’s not about that either,” Enjolras interrupted. “Look, I don’t know how to do this, how do people do this?”

“How do people do what?” Grantaire asked, sounding about as confused as Enjolras felt.

Enjolras bit his lip, finally looking at Grantaire, who was staring right back at him, with his incredibly distracting blue eyes, a faint smile playing around his also incredibly distracting lips. Enjolras wasn’t sure why he did what he did, but he leaned down and pressed his lips to Grantaire’s, because really, kissing someone couldn’t be _that_ hard. And it felt nice, really nice, for the few seconds that it lasted.

Grantaire made a surprised noise and first moved to kiss Enjolras back but then abruptly pulled away. “What the hell was that?”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras whispered. _Shit_ , kissing people just like this was just horrible inappropriate. “Let’s just… go and have dinner and forget about this, I’m really sorry, I thought… actually I’m not really sure what I was thinking.”

“O _kay_ ,” Grantaire said. “That explains nothing.”

When Grantaire kept looking at him expectantly, obviously waiting for an explanation, Enjolras could only shrug helplessly. “I just… I like you.”

“You like me?” Grantaire echoed, sounding about as disbelieving as if Enjolras had just told him that he was actually a unicorn.

“That’s what I just said,” Enjolras said gruffly.

Grantaire shook his head. “You can’t just do this.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Yeah, I heard that.”

“I thought you might like me back.” Obviously he’d read that wrong. He wasn’t sure what else Eponine could have meant, though. “Let’s just forget this happened, okay? I’m really sorry.”

Grantaire frowned. “Stop apologising for a second. You’re really serious about this?”

“Well, obviously.”

“You like me,” Grantaire said slowly.

Enjolras wasn’t quite sure how many times he’d have to repeat it before the embarrassment would finally kill him. Maybe he could ask Grantaire not to tell anyone. No one ever had to know about this. He could go hide in his room and quietly hate himself for being such a presumptuous idiot. Yeah, that would work.

For some reason, though, Grantaire reached out to take his hand. “Just give me a second, I’m trying to process this,” he said, laughing nervously. Then he looked up all of a sudden. “Wait, this was your first kiss, wasn’t it?”

Enjolras was pretty sure that he face couldn’t get any redder. “Maybe.”

“Oh god, I totally ruined that for you, didn’t I?” Grantaire took his other hand as well. “Sorry, I’m just a little… I don’t know, right now I’m not even sure if this is really happening.”

“It is,” Enjolras said, not sure how he was supposed to concentrate on anything but Grantaire holding both of his hands.

“Do you want to…” Grantaire paused, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Do you want to try that again maybe?”

Enjolras nodded, temporarily forgetting how to breathe when Grantaire let go of his hands and put them on his waist, pulling him a little closer before he moved them to his face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks. Enjolras stayed very still, trying to remember how to breathe, not sure if he actually whimpered a little when Grantaire kissed him, a slow slide of lips against his, careful and gentle.

It took Enjolras a while to figure out where to put his hands and how to tilt his head so he wouldn’t keep bumping his nose against Grantaire’s. Grantaire coaxed his mouth open with his tongue and Enjolras’ grip on him tightened a little, and slowly but surely he was starting to grasp why everyone enjoyed this so much, it was exhilarating, and Enjolras refused to pull away again until he felt like there wasn’t any air left in his lungs.

“You know what,” Grantaire breathed, leaning back a few inches, “you’re good at this, which is really unfair.”

“Why is it unfair?” Enjolras asked, frowning.

“Because you’re good at everything already,” Grantaire grumbled. “Except for art,” he added, smirking, “you suck at that.”

“Thanks,” Enjolras muttered, somehow unable to stop smiling.

Grantaire laughed and pulled him into another kiss.

* * *

Enjolras could do this. There was no reason for him to freak out, no reason at all.

He was still in Grantaire’s room, sitting on his bed now, with Grantaire right next to him. Grantaire had got them both pizza and had then put on a movie on his laptop.

Enjolras didn’t know what movie they were watching, he’d just blindly agreed to everything that Grantaire had suggested and now he couldn’t pay attention, not when Grantaire was right next to him, side-eying him every now and then, smiling tentatively.

Enjolras had to admit that he had his own eyes on Grantaire more than he had them directed at the laptop screen.

He wasn’t quite sure what to do now, if he was supposed to hold Grantaire’s hand, because he certainly wanted to, or if they should talk about this, because was pretty sure that relationships usually came with terms and conditions. If Grantaire even wanted to be in a relationship. They should definitely talk about _that_.

Grantaire seemed to pick up on his uneasiness and after a while he turned to look at him with a worried expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Enjolras said quickly.

“You keep fidgeting, you know?” Grantaire said lowly. “Like you’re about to run away. Are you nervous? Because it’s okay if you’re nervous, just tell me, I swear, whatever it is, it’s fine.”

“I just don’t know how relationships work,” Enjolras said. His parents really weren’t the best example. Marius and Cosette usually just looked at each other adoringly and held hands, Courfeyrac and Jehan had turned into the personification of public displays of affection somewhere along the line, didn’t care about what others said, although they were still careful not to let any teachers see.

“Right,” Grantaire said, “relationships.” He scratched his head, and leaned over to pause the movie. “I guess we should talk about this, yeah.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras echoed.

“Well,” Grantaire said, when Enjolras didn’t say anything else, “we can go out.” Enjolras nodded. “On a date.” Enjolras nodded again. “If you want that.”

“That sounds good,” Enjolras said, smiling at him.

“Good, great, let’s do that, then,” Grantaire said. “Maybe not _right_ _now_ , but soon.”

Enjolras nodded. “Good.”

“Also… and, by the way, this has nothing to do with you, I promise, but no one can know about us,” Grantaire said seriously. “I mean, we can tell our friends, obviously… if you want them to know?”

Enjolras nodded. “Okay,” he mumbled.

“It’s just… my parents can’t know,” Grantaire explained, “I have no idea what my dad would do if he knew, but it wouldn’t be nice, believe me. And, you know, if Lamarque finds out, or Valjean, chances are that our parents will find out at some point as well.”

“I understand,” Enjolras said. He really _did_ understand. As far as he was concerned, well, at this point he didn’t care if his own parents ever found out. His father would probably disown him, his mother would be shocked, yes, but she’d probably get it together after a while.

Grantaire smiled at him. “Good.”

“Good,” Enjolras agreed.

“Do you want to watch the rest of the movie?” Grantaire asked.

“Sure,” Enjolras replied, conveniently not mentioning that he still had no idea what the damn movie was even about.

Grantaire hit play again and leaned back against his pillow. Enjolras tried to shift a little closer without it being too obvious, but had a little trouble keeping his balance and ended up in a position that was entirely too uncomfortable. At some point he just didn’t dare move anymore, because he was sure that he’d end up toppling over and onto Grantaire if he did.

“Enjolras, what are you doing?” Grantaire asked, sounding vaguely amused.

“I’m just… trying to find a comfortable position.”

“That doesn’t look comfortable.”

“It isn’t,” Enjolras grumbled.

Grantaire stared at him for a second, then he put his arm around his shoulders, pulling Enjolras against him. “Better?”

Enjolras wrapped an arm around his waist. “Much better.”

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to get used to – all the things Enjolras had thought he wouldn’t like – the hand-holding, the kisses, the knowing smiles that flitted over Grantaire’s face every time they saw each other.

Grantaire made it easy for him, too, didn’t push him, and was more hesitant than Enjolras would have thought him to be.

Most of their friends hadn’t even bat an eye when the two of them had walked into the common room holding hands, only Courfeyrac had congratulated them both on behalf of their whole dorm. He got a hug from Cosette and a roll of eyes from Eponine, who’d happened to sit next to her.

“I’m so glad you guys are finally together,” Joly said to Enjolras one evening. They were in the common room, Grantaire was talking to Jehan about his English essay, but was still holding Enjolras’ hand.

Bossuet nodded. “Yeah, I mean, Grantaire has been whining about you for ages, it was about time.”

Grantaire turned around slowly, glaring at Bossuet. “Shh.”

Bossuet quickly mouthed _sorry_ , then he took Joly by the hand and dragged him away before Grantaire could kill him with the quite murderous look in his eyes.

“When he says _for ages_ ,” Enjolras whispered, “what exactly does he mean?”

“Well, I’ve liked for a while,” Grantaire mumbled, carefully avoiding looking Enjolras in the eye. “It’s not a big deal, okay?”

Enjolras squeezed his hand. “How long is _a while_?”

“Please just let this go,” Grantaire grumbled. Jehan snorted and got up, only to flop down right on Courfeyrac’s lap on the sofa next to the window.

“No, come on, just tell me.” Enjolras leaned a little closer and kissed the corner of Grantaire’s mouth. He’d found out pretty quickly how to appease Grantaire. Kisses, for example, worked most of the time. “Please.”

“No, because it’s really embarrassing to admit that I’ve been in love with you ever since I first saw you,” Grantaire muttered, hiding his face in Enjolras’ shirt.

“Since you first saw me?” Enjolras asked, ruffling his hair. “Really?”

“Shut up,” Grantaire muttered.

Enjolras was pretty sure that he was exaggerating, but he’d really had no idea. He pulled Grantaire a little closer. “You should have said something.”

“Enjolras, no offense, but I thought you hated me for the longest time.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras mumbled. He knew he hadn’t been exactly nice to Grantaire in the beginning, even though Grantaire had done his best to provoke him, Enjolras probably should have made an effort not to be quite as harsh.

“It’s okay, you can make it up to me,” Grantaire said. Enjolras could feel him smile against his skin.

Enjolras nodded eagerly. “How?”

Grantaire pulled away, his cheeks still tinted pink. “Go out with me on Friday. Remember when I said we should go out? Like on a real date? Not just hang out in my room and watch movies? We should do that.”

“We should,” Enjolras agreed immediately. “What do you want to do?”

“I have a plan,” Grantaire said, “just leave it to me, all you have to do is come.”

Enjolras grinned, somehow already nervous, but really excited at the same time.


	20. Chapter 20

“You have to come with me,” Enjolras whispered to Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac got up immediately, no questions asked, and followed him back down the hall to his room, where Combeferre was already waiting for them, Enjolras’ laptop in his lap.

“So, what’s going on, are you freaking out about your date with Grantaire?” Courfeyrac asked, looking at him sympathetically as he sat down next to Combeferre.

“A little,” Enjolras said. _A little_ didn’t really cut it. _A little_ was the understatement of the year. He took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you could help me.”

“Anything, sweetcheeks,” Courfeyrac crooned. “Do you want me to give you…” He paused, grinning, “the talk?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “No, of course not.” It wasn’t like his parents had ever bothered to do it, but he knew how sex worked, thank you very much. Well, he knew of the technicalities. Anyway, it wasn’t like Grantaire would want to– “Wait,” Enjolras said, “did Grantaire say anything to you about tonight?”

“No, he didn’t,” Courfeyrac said quickly and held out his hand. “Come sit down.”

Enjolras did, feeling about twice as nervous as he had before.

“Grantaire’s not gonna be on board with anything you’re not on board with,” Courfeyrac said decidedly.

“I know,” Enjolras mumbled. He did know, although he probably couldn’t make Grantaire wait forever. He didn’t want to wait forever either, he just wanted some time to get used to all of this. Even though it had been nearly a month and he probably _should_ be used to it by now.

“Look, you’re gonna do that thing Grantaire has planned for you, and you’re gonna have a great time and then you’re gonna kiss him goodnight and if you want to go straight to bed after that then that’s fine.”

“Courfeyrac is right, I’m sure Grantaire doesn’t have any expectations,” Combeferre added.

“But he’s been with so many people, he has so much more experience and I’m just…” Enjolras shrugged. “I just don’t want him to be disappointed.”

“Dude,” Courfeyrac said, shaking his head. “Dude, seriously, what?”

Enjolras blushed furiously. “Forget it, it’s fine.”

“No, Enjolras, it’s not fine,” Combeferre said. “You need to talk to Grantaire about this, because it’s obviously bothering you.”

“It’s not _bothering_ me,” Enjolras said.

“Yeah, I’m really not buying that,” Courfeyrac said. “Talk to him. Just tell him you’re not ready. He’ll understand, I promise.”

“Okay,” Enjolras said, more for the sake of ending this conversation than anything else. This wasn’t what he’d wanted them to help him with anyway. “Can you help me pick something to wear?”

Courfeyrac snorted. “Absolutely,” he said happily and jumped up to dig through Enjolras closet. “Why is Combeferre here?”

“To stop you from picking something ridiculous,” Enjolras said lightly.

Courfeyrac clutched at his heart. “As if I wouldn’t pick the best possible outfit for you.” He threw a pair of jeans at Enjolras. “Here, wear those, I know Grantaire likes them.”

“He does?” Enjolras asked, eyeing them warily. Cosette had talked him into buying them and they were pretty much the tightest pair he owned.

“Definitely,” Courfeyrac said and pulled one of his plaid shirts out of his closet. “And maybe this one?”

Enjolras turned to Combeferre, who only nodded.

“See, I picked a perfectly reasonable outfit,” Courfeyrac said, arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t even know what you were afraid of.”

“He probably thought you’d make him wear a bowtie,” Combeferre muttered.

Courfeyrac gasped. “You hurt me.” He sank down on the bed next to Enjolras, shaking his head. “I love my bowties.”

“When are you meeting Grantaire?” Combeferre asked before Courfeyrac could get completely absorbed in his dramatics.

“He said he’d pick me up at six,” Enjolras said, eyeing his alarm clock. He still had two hours.

“You have to tell us everything tomorrow morning,” Courfeyrac said. “ _Everything_.”

Enjolras had to promise him twice that, yes, he’d tell him every single detail in the morning, then he was left to freak out all by himself. He went to take a shower, he pulled on the clothes Courfeyrac had picked for him, he put his hair into a bun, then he undid it again, two minutes later he pulled it into a ponytail, only to put it back into a bun again.

Enjolras had never seen the appeal in dates and even now he’d prefer not to label it as such. It just had this weird connotation of being different than all the other times he’d hung out with Grantaire and that somehow made it a big deal.

Well, it _was_ different and not knowing what exactly was going to happen made him a little anxious. _A little._

He believed Combeferre and Courfeyrac when they said that Grantaire would never push him. It was true, he wouldn’t and he’d never tried. But the few kisses they’d shared weren’t exactly milestones, the hand-holding probably wasn’t as exciting for Grantaire, because he’d done it a billion times before. With multiple people.

Enjolras frowned at himself in the mirror, but didn’t have time to change his mind about anything, because there was a knock on his door. Enjolras opened the door and found Grantaire beaming at him and somehow Enjolras managed to smile back at him, even though he wasn’t entirely sure if he had control over his muscles at the moment.

Grantaire looked pretty much as he always did, wearing too-tight black trousers and his favourite green hoodie, but his smile was a great deal brighter than usual.

“Are you ready?” Grantaire asked, holding out his hand.

No, Enjolras wasn’t ready at all, but it was probably too late to ask if they could just stay in and watch a film. “Sure, I’ll get my jacket.”

“Actually,” Grantaire said, his fingers curling around his wrist, “you won’t need that one.”

So they were staying in the building. It wasn’t as reassuring as Enjolras would have thought it to be. “Okay,” he mumbled and let Grantaire drag him out into the hallway. “So,” Enjolras said as they walked past the common room, “what are we doing?”

“You’ll see,” Grantaire said, waving at someone inside, but quickly turning back to Enjolras. “It’s a surprise.”

“Oh,” was all Enjolras could think of to say in response. He wasn’t a huge fan of surprises, but he’d make an exception this one time.

Grantaire laughed nervously, his fingers interlacing with Enjolras’. “Follow me,” he said and tugged Enjolras onwards. He walked him downstairs and down the hall that led to Feuilly’s office, which struck Enjolras as a little strange.

Well, obviously they wouldn’t _really_ be going to Feuilly’s office.

Although Grantaire did stop right in front of the door to the office. And he opened it. Okay, that really was weird. “What are we doing here?” Enjolras asked.

“Right, you don’t know what’s going on, I’m sorry, okay, time to explain, I guess,” Grantaire said, chewing on his bottom lip. “Well,” he added and switched the light on, “Feuilly let me borrow his office. And his kitchen, but that doesn’t really concern you. Go on in.”

It took Enjolras a couple of seconds to tear his eyes off Grantaire, because _what the hell was Grantaire doing in Feuilly’s kitchen_ , before he managed to will his feet to move and to step inside the room.

Feuilly’s desk had been pushed to the side and now there was a small table in the middle of the room, with a table cloth and two sets of dishes.

“Too cheesy?” Grantaire asked. “Because I guess we could still go back to my room and eat there and get food all over my bedsheets. I'd be cool with that, too.”

“No,” Enjolras said quickly, “it’s great.”

Grantaire breathed out a sigh of relief. “Okay, well, sit down and I’ll get the food, okay?”

Enjolras did and watched Grantaire disappear through the door that presumably led to Feuilly’s little flat. Enjolras tried not to watch the door, but he was just so curious. Because it really looked like Grantaire had cooked for him. Enjolras couldn’t cook for the life of him and even if Grantaire had only heated up soup for them, he’d be thoroughly impressed.

To be quite honest, he was impressed already.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Maybe that they’d go into town and watch a film at the cinema instead of Grantaire’s room.

Grantaire soon reappeared, carrying two plates, one of which he set down in front of Enjolras. “Here you go, I hope it doesn’t taste totally horrible.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras said, watching as Grantaire sat down at the other side of the table, eyeing him nervously. “Did you do this all by yourself?”

“Yeah, well, I obviously had to ask Feuilly for permission, but he was happy to help me out. And he won’t tell anyone.” Grantaire shrugged. “I mean, there are not a lot of date options, you know, especially when it’s Friday night and everyone we know is in town and… yeah, I guess I’ll stop talking now.”

Enjolras only smiled at him, wondering how often he could say thank you before it got ridiculous.

“You can eat by the way,” Grantaire said, picking up his fork. “Unless you’re worried I poisoned it. Because you do like pasta, right? Or did I just fuck up tremendously.”

“No, I love pasta, don’t worry, I’m just… you did all of this.”

“Yeah.” Grantaire smiled his same old lopsided smile. “Let’s just eat, okay?”

Enjolras nodded and picked up his fork as well and took a bite of his pasta. It was delicious and Enjolras told Grantaire so, which earned him another one of the bright smiles that he was growing to like a lot.  

They ate in silence, only looking at each other after they’d finished. “I’m really nervous,” Enjolras blurted out after a while. “I don’t even know why.”

“It’s fine,” Grantaire mumbled, brushing his foot against Enjolras’ under the table. “So am I. In case my ludicrous babbling hasn’t already given me away.”

“This was really nice,” Enjolras said, nudging Grantaire’s foot back.

“It’s not over yet,” Grantaire said, “there’s still dessert.”

“You made dessert, too?” Enjolras asked. When it was his turn to take Grantaire out on a date, he’d never be able to top this.

“Feuilly helped me with that,” Grantaire said, “so you can actually look forward to it because it’ll definitely taste good.”

“This was good, too,” Enjolras said quickly, nudging his plate. “How do you know how to cook?”

“My grandma taught me.”

“Ah.” He could have figured that out by himself. “My grandma has her personal chef.”

Grantaire snorted. “I see.”

“What’s for dessert?” Enjolras asked, hoping he could avoid talking about his family. He had another grandmother as well, his mother’s mum, and Enjolras had sometimes visited her when he was little, but at some point his mother had stopped taking him there. She still sent him birthday cards and Enjolras always called to thank her, but those usually were short talks and his mother was never mentioned.

“I’ll get it,” Grantaire said, almost stumbling to his feet. He took their dirty plates and vanished, but only for a couple of minutes.

When he returned, he handed Enjolras a bowl of chocolate mousse and this time they actually managed to strike up a conversation about one thing or another – homework, the weather, Joly’s addiction to soap operas that Bossuet seemed to have started to share.

Grantaire left again to put the rest of the dishes away, then he held out his hand to Enjolras again. “Feuilly said to leave the table, you wanna go back up?”

Enjolras nodded and they walked back down the empty hall and up the stairs hand in hand. The common room as dark and empty, the whole hallway was completely silent. They stopped in front of Enjolras’ door, still holding hands.

“So…” Grantaire squeezed his hand. “That was nice.”

“It was,” Enjolras agreed. “Thanks for… everything.”

“No problem,” Grantaire mumbled. He let go of Enjolras hand, only to put it on his waist, gently pulling him closer. “Can I steal a goodnight kiss?”

“You want to go to bed already?” Enjolras asked. He was still nervous, but that didn't mean that he didn't want spend more time with Grantaire. He'd just see what happened.

Grantaire grinned. “Why, do you have other plans?”

“Do you want to come in?” Enjolras pushed his door open, going inside, smiling when Grantaire followed at his heels. No need to be nervous, they’d done this before. “We can watch a film if you want.”

“Yeah, we can do that,” Grantaire said, throwing himself onto Enjolras’ bed, kicking his shoes off on the way. “Or you could come here,” he added, scooting to the side.  

Enjolras did, a little hesitantly maybe, trying to squeeze himself on the mattress next to Grantaire. It was fine. This was fine.

Grantaire turned over so he could look at him, watching him intently. “Enjolras,” he said lowly, frowning at him, “you look vaguely terrified and I’m just sort of wondering if that’s my fault?”

“I’m not terrified,” Enjolras said immediately. “I’m fine, everything’s fine.”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire said again, sounding slightly exasperated. “You can tell me. Come on, talk to me. I don’t want to fuck up, just tell me what I did wrong so I can stop trying to figure it out by myself.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Enjolras mumbled. He didn’t know how to explain, he didn’t even know where to start or how to put it into words.

Grantaire hummed, his arm snaking around Enjolras’ waist. “This okay?”

Enjolras nodded.

“So, I didn’t do anything that upset you,” Grantaire mused, “which is good, I guess. Because that probably means you don’t want to break up with me already. Which is good, too. Although I’d get it, you know.”

“You’d get what?”

“If you didn’t want to do this… _thing_ anymore.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?”

“I don’t know, Enjolras,” Grantaire grumbled, fumbling with the hem of Enjolras’ shirt. “Maybe because you’ve grown bored with me, or because you realised you didn’t want this, you know, I’m well aware that I’m not a particularly good catch. You could easily be with someone else.”

“But I don’t want to be with anyone else,” Enjolras protested. He liked Grantaire. He felt safe when he was with Grantaire, always a little nervous, like he was about to do something wrong any minute, always treading carefully because he didn’t want to start a fight, but still, he felt good when he was around him. “I like being with you.”

“Well, I like being with you, too,” Grantaire said. It did sound like there was a _but_ coming, but Grantaire only bit his lip and inched a little closer. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong now?”

Enjolras shook his head and pressed a soft kiss to Grantaire’s lips. It was easy to distract him, and he soon had one hand resting on Grantaire’s hip and Grantaire’s hand slowly wandered up his back, twining a loose strand of hair around his finger, tugging lightly when Enjolras nipped at his bottom lip. He probably did it more out of surprise than anything else, but it wasn’t like Enjolras minded. If anything, he actually liked it. A lot.

He pressed a little closer and rocked his hips against Grantaire’s, entirely involuntarily, and– _Oh_. He pulled back quickly, staring at Grantaire, who was looking back at him, his eyes dark and his breath coming quickly. Enjolras really wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or to just keep going. The latter option did seem appealing all of a sudden, although Enjolras wasn’t quite sure what exactly would happen if they did keep going and he really wasn’t up for that kind of uncertainty.

“See,” Enjolras whispered, “this is what bothers me.”

Grantaire cleared his throat. “Um, awkward boners?”

It took Enjolras all of his self-control not to hide his face in Grantaire’s hoodie. “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never been with anyone.”

“I know,” Grantaire said lightly. “I mean, I figured. But it’s fine, don’t worry, okay? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“We don’t,” Enjolras echoed. “Right.”

“Obviously not,” Grantaire said. “Was I pushing you? Jehan told me to take it slow, I fucked that up, didn’t I? Shit, I’m sorry.” Grantaire scooted away from him a little, his expression worried.

The only thing that Enjolras had really picked up on was that Grantaire had been talking about him to Jehan, so it took him a couple of seconds to realise that Grantaire was actually expecting a reply. “No, you didn’t. I just… I do like the taking it slow part.”

“Yeah, sure, absolutely, as slow as you want,” Grantaire said and reached out to touch Enjolras’ chest, just letting his hand rest there for a bit.

Enjolras was fairly certain that Grantaire could feel his heartbeat speed up a bit. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

Grantaire smiled and let his hand wander to the back of Enjolras’ neck and into his hair, tugging at his hair tie. “May I?”

Although Enjolras wasn’t quite sure what Grantaire was up to, he nodded. Grantaire carefully undid his bun and started running his fingers through his hair, tugging at knotted strands every now and then.

Enjolras sighed and closed his eyes, more than happy to let Grantaire continue for a while.

* * *

Things progressed slowly between them - they went into town together, Grantaire made him another drawing for his birthday, this time one of the both of them.

They got used to each other’s company. They got so used to it, in fact, that they soon started bickering again. It was just that now their fights usually ended with kisses, with Grantaire hugging him, with him reaching for Grantaire’s hand in a silent apology.

This time, Enjolras couldn’t quite remember what exactly he’d been so pissed off about. He’d had a pretty bad day in general, because his father had called him earlier and then Grantaire had made some kind of comment that had set him off.

But yes, right now, he really couldn’t remember what exactly it had been.

Enjolras had snapped at him and Grantaire had ducked his head and he’d looked so miserable that Enjolras hadn’t known what else to do but pull him into a hug. Grantaire had apologized and had kissed him and somehow they’d ended up on Enjolras’ bed, still kissing, their hands roaming.

Now Grantaire was pulling at his hair, sucking at his neck, and Enjolras knew that he’d be wearing a scarf for days, but he didn’t care enough to tell Grantaire to stop.

Enjolras didn’t even notice that his door had opened until someone cleared his throat at the door. He quickly pulled away from Grantaire, both of them sitting up, staring at Lamarque, who was still standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, looking at them sternly. “Care to explain what’s going on here?”

“We were just talking,” Enjolras said quickly. Obviously Lamarque had seen exactly what was going on, but it was worth a try.

Grantaire nodded. “Horizontally.”

“It helps me think,” Enjolras added.

Grantaire nodded again. “Yeah, it helps him think.”

“My office,” Lamarque said lowly, “tomorrow after breakfast.”

“Sir, all due respect, but you could have knocked,” Grantaire piped up.

“I did knock,” Lamarque said dryly. “Grantaire, you were supposed to be in your own room ten minutes ago. I expect you to be there in five.”

“Yes, Sir,” Grantaire mumbled.

“Goodnight, Enjolras,” Lamarque said, then he left.

“It helps you _think_?” Grantaire whispered as soon as Lamarque had shut the door. “Really?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else,” Enjolras grumbled, finally turning to look at him. “He’s not going to expel us for this, is he?”

Grantaire shook his head. “Don’t think so. I’m not sure. He once caught me making out with Floreal, like two years ago or something, it was pretty innocent, though, but yeah, we just got detention because she was in my room. He called my parents, too. Which would actually be pretty much the worst thing that could happen.” Grantaire laughed nervously. “Shit, if he calls my parents, I’m so screwed.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras muttered and wrapped an arm around him. “We’ll talk to him, okay? And ask him not to call them.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “I should get back to my room.” He squeezed Enjolras’ hand. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Enjolras said, kissing him before he left, hoping that Lamarque wouldn’t rip off their heads in the morning.


	21. Chapter 21

Enjolras woke up early the next morning, long before his alarm clock started beeping. He usually didn’t even set it, because he knew that Courfeyrac or Combeferre would come to wake him up anyway.

He was nervous, most because he knew Grantaire was terrified of his parents finding out about them and even though he hoped that Lamarque wouldn’t call their parents because of this, it was still a possibility. If he did, Enjolras was sure that at least his father would be furious. It didn’t actually bother him much, though. He probably would have told his parents at some point, Lamarque telling them would just make it easier for him. But that didn’t go for Grantaire.

Enjolras still felt like this was party his fault, because he knew that Lamarque came to check on them every now and then, he should have paid more attention.

He sighed and tried to go back to sleep in vain, eventually dragged himself out of bed and went to take a shower. It looked like he’d show up for breakfast early for once. On his way down the hall, though, he stopped next to Courfeyrac’s room, tentatively knocking on the door.

Courfeyrac answered with a groaned _yeah_ , which Enjolras took as an invitation for him to enter. He found Courfeyrac still in bed, staring at him with a shocked expression.

“Why are you awake?” Courfeyrac whispered, sitting up so he could feel Enjolras’ forehead. “Are you okay? Do you have a fever?”

Enjolras batted his hand away. “I’m fine.” He frowned. “Actually, I’m not. Lamarque caught me with Grantaire last night. We were… kissing. And he saw.” Well, kissing didn’t quite cut it, but he didn’t really want to go into detail.

Courfeyrac’s eyes widened. “Shit, what did he do?”

“He told us to come to his office after breakfast,” Enjolras told him.

Courfeyrac hummed, obviously thinking. “Well…”

“Well?” Enjolras echoed.

“As your lawyer I’d recommend taking a look at the house rules,” Courfeyrac said, standing up and getting a crumpled piece of paper from his desk drawer. “Because technically…” He paused, scanning the paper. “Technically you didn’t do anything forbidden, you know?”

“Grantaire was supposed to be in his own room, though,” Enjolras muttered.

Courfeyrac shrugged. “Yeah, but that shouldn’t be a big deal. The only thing they’re pretty strict about is the whole girls and boys aren’t supposed to be in the same rooms at night blah blah, you know. Lamarque wasn’t even that strict about checking on us before Javert caught us breaking into the swimming pool.”

“Grantaire’s worried that Lamarque might call our parents and tell them.”

“Nah, he won’t,” Courfeyrac said. “He only does that when you break into the swimming pool. But not when it’s minor stuff like that. Seriously, Lamarque is cool, don’t worry.”

Enjolras nodded, still worried, but not quite as much as before.

“So,” Courfeyrac said, a grin spreading over his face, “things are going well with Grantaire?”

“He’s not as insufferable as he used to be,” Enjolras said lowly. It did surprise him a little that Grantaire was trying so hard to always be nice and not start a fight, even though sometimes it didn’t quite work out and they started squabbling.

“Aw, come on, he was just pulling your pigtails, you know that. He always liked you.” Courfeyrac patted him on the back. “By the way, next time just tell him to sneak into your room _after_ Lamarque has checked on you. Grantaire should know that, actually.”

“Yeah, we got… carried away.”

“Did you, now?” Courfeyrac asked, his grin growing ever wider.

“Nothing happened,” Enjolras grumbled. “I mean, not what you think.”

Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows. “But you wanted something to happen?”

“No,” Enjolras said immediately. “I mean…” He paused, thinking. Well, he certainly wouldn’t have been opposed to it, but– “I don’t really know how… I mean, I guess?”

Courfeyrac tilted his head, his brow furrowed. “You still haven’t talked to him, have you?”

“I have, it’s not that,” Enjolras said. “I’m just curious, you know, about what he’s… done with other people.” Especially after Grantaire had mentioned Floreal last night. But it’s not like he could just ask Grantaire about it.

Courfeyrac snorted. “Just ask him.”

Or maybe he could. “I just don’t know how,” Enjolras whined.

“Use your words,” Courfeyrac said with a roll of his eyes.

* * *

Enjolras and Grantaire hardly talked at all during breakfast, but at least Grantaire smiled at him when he sat down in the chair next to his and reached over to squeeze his hand under the table before he started picking apart his croissant.

Afterwards they trudged up the stairs to Lamarque’s office in silence and Enjolras wanted nothing more than to take Grantaire’s hand, but the floors were teeming with students on their way to breakfast or, some of the very eager ones, on the way to their classrooms, so he didn’t.

The door to Lamarque’s office was open and he beckoned them to come inside, smiling when they took a seat. “Good morning, boys.”

They both mumbled good mornings, anxiously watching Lamarque.

“Please don’t tell our parents,” Grantaire blurted out before Lamarque could say anything. “Please, Sir, my dad’s going to… He’ll…” Grantaire shook his head. “Just don’t tell them.”

Lamarque regarded him for a couple of seconds, his expression thoughtful.

“Sir, except for Grantaire not being in his room we didn’t do anything wrong, did we?” Enjolras was aware that he was sounding a little petulant, but this was just ridiculous.

“You didn’t,” Lamarque agreed, “however, I wanted to advise you to be more careful, which is why I asked you to come here. I understand why you don’t want me to call your parents and I promise you that I won’t, but I feel compelled to tell you what I tell everyone else in a situation like this.” He paused and took off his glasses to clean them with his shirtsleeve. “I don’t want to see you two sneaking into each other’s rooms at night and I don’t want to see any inappropriate behaviour.”

“When you say you don’t want to _see_ it, does that mean-”

“Grantaire,” Lamarque interrupted, “I’m letting you off the hook here, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that not all teachers would do the same.”

Enjolras bit his lip, side-eyeing Grantaire, who leaned back in his seat, quiet now.  “Thank you,” Enjolras said quietly.

Lamarque nodded. “Just keep in mind that we do have rules and some of my colleagues are very strict about them.” He bestowed them both with a stern glance. “I’ll see you in class,” he said, which they took at dismissal, all but running out of the office.

“That went better than expected,” Grantaire muttered, leaning against a wall, smirking. “I have an appointment with Bahorel at the toolsheds, you coming?”

Enjolras frowned, shaking his head. “No.” He didn’t smoke, he never had and he didn’t want to try it either. He really didn’t approve of this particular habit of Grantaire’s, even though Grantaire really didn’t sneak off to smoke that often – only every now and then when he and Bahorel got their hands on a pack of cigarettes.

Grantaire took a step back, still smirking. “I’ll see you later, then?”

Enjolras smiled, pretty sure that Grantaire wasn’t talking about the classes they had together. “Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

“Maybe we can pick up where we left off when we were so rudely interrupted last night,” Grantaire mumbled and wandered off.

Grantaire slipped into his seat in Maths class a minute before the lesson started, Bahorel following at his heels. He winked at Enjolras on the way, and later, in Biology, he squeezed Enjolras’ knee under the table, drawing patterns on his thigh, leaving Enjolras with uncomfortably tight jeans as he skipped off to his Latin class with a wide grin on his face.

Enjolras ducked into the bathroom, red-faced, hoping no one had noticed how flustered he was. He hid out in one of the stalls, took a couple of deep breaths, somehow managed not to think about Grantaire, or his goddamned hands, and deemed it safe to come out of hiding a couple of minutes later, apologising profusely when he walked into his politics class much too late.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac both threw him a concerned look, but Enjolras only shook his head. He was fine, everything was fine, all he had to do was not think about Grantaire.

It wasn’t as easy as he’d expected and it was mildly frustrating, because Enjolras had never in his life had problems concentrating on something, he’d always been focused on whatever it was he’d been doing, but now his thoughts always gravitated back to Grantaire.

He walked back up to their dorm with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, but when they both went to sit in the common room, Enjolras excused himself and walked straight down the hall to his own room, where, unsurprisingly, Grantaire was already waiting for him, lounging on his bed with his sketchbook in his lap. He’d told Enjolras that he wanted to apply for some kind of summer art school and he needed something to send to them, so he was probably still working on that.

Grantaire put it down as soon as Enjolras came in and closed the door, dumping his bag by his desk. When Enjolras didn’t move to sit down, Grantaire stood up and walked over to Enjolras, his arms sneaking around his waist. “How was Politics?”

“It was alright,” Enjolras muttered, knowing full well that if Grantaire were to ask him what they’d been talking about in class, he wouldn’t be able to remember.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Grantaire said, planting a series of kisses on his neck and jawline until Enjolras budged and tilted his head so Grantaire could kiss him on the lips as well. Grantaire soon pulled away again, his hands still resting on Enjolras’ hips. “You seemed awfully distracted earlier, I hope it wasn’t too hard to pay attention.”

Enjolras shook his head, feeling his cheeks flush.

Grantaire smiled and kissed him again, gently nipping at his lip, his fingers slipping into Enjolras’ hair, tugging him closer. Enjolras kissed him back eagerly, hands fisting in Grantaire’s shirt to make sure he stayed exactly where he was, pressing as close as he could.

Enjolras let out a soft whimper when Grantaire’s tongue flitted across the roof of his mouth and he was pretty sure that making that kind of noise should actually be embarrassing, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care right now. Grantaire didn’t seem to be fazed by it either, only pushed him back against his desk.

And yes, Enjolras was absolutely fine with this, he liked kissing, kissing was great, he knew how to do this, but then Grantaire’s fingers made their way under his shirt, and his leg snuck between Enjolras’ thighs and now he wasn’t quite sure what to do, where they were going to go from here, and yeah, Courfeyrac had been right, he really needed to talk about this.

He pulled away, his hand resting on Grantaire’s chest, keeping him a few inches away from him. “Grantaire…”

Grantaire was looking at him expectantly, his eyes wide. His lips red and swollen, slightly parted, which made it so much harder for Enjolras to focus. “Yeah?” Grantaire asked.

“Can we talk about… a thing?” Enjolras asked, looking at the opposite wall, out his window, down at Grantaire’s shirt, but not in his eyes. He was blushing furiously again and he would have very much loved to hide his face right now.

 “Yeah, sure.” He looked uncertain now and Enjolras immediately felt bad, because Grantaire always instantly assumed that whatever it was had something to do with him and Enjolras probably should have mentioned that none of this was his fault.

Enjolras took him by the hand and tugged him over to the bed. “Come on, let’s sit down.” He curled up in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest, trying to think of what exactly to say. Grantaire sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed, watching him, now seeming more curious than anything else. “Last night…”

“Yeah?” Grantaire prompted, leaning a little closer.

“You said something about Floreal.”

“I did,” Grantaire said, his eyes narrowing. “Enjolras, what is this about?”

“I was just… thinking.” He shrugged helplessly. “Would you tell me about the, um, other people you’ve been with?”

Grantaire shrugged, his cheeks a little pink now. “There weren’t many, you know?”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “It always sounded like there were many.”

Grantaire groaned. “Well, that was just me talking bullshit.” Grantaire looked down at his hands, nervously picking at his fingernails. “Okay, so there was this girl I made out with at a party my cousin took me to about three years ago, and then there was Floreal, but we were only going out for a couple of days until we kinda started to pursue other interests, so I wouldn’t say that it counts as a relationship, and then there was this other girl I met on vacation, but I don’t really remember her that well.” He shrugged. “And then there was Jehan.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “You and Jehan, was that…”

Grantaire frowned. “Wait a second, you’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, of course not.” He just wanted to know what he was up against. “So?”

“It wasn’t really serious, you know, I just wanted to try what it was like being with a guy and Jehan never made a big deal about being pan, everyone just knew, so we kinda had this arrangement and we just made out when we felt like it and sometimes we, um, yeah, we did other stuff, but seriously, I told you I don’t have any expectations, okay? I won’t push you and if you feel like I am you have to tell me.”

Enjolras nodded, his mind still hung up on one particular thing. “What kind of stuff?”

Grantaire scrunched up his nose. “Look, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Actually you already are, I can see that, and I don’t want to make it even worse.”

“Just tell me.”

“Well, it was just the occasional handjob, sometimes I sucked him off, see I’m making you uncomfortable, your face is doing that thing it always does when Combeferre tears down one of your arguments. I’ll stop talking now.”

“My face isn’t doing a thing,” Enjolras protested. “It’s fine, really, thanks for telling me.” He sounded defensive, he realised that, but he wouldn’t admit that he did, in fact, feel incredibly uncomfortable.

Admittedly, he was glad this conversation was now over, so he inched back towards Grantaire, tugging at his shirt until he finally got the hint and let Enjolras pull him into his arms.


	22. Chapter 22

Enjolras sometimes thought back to his talk with Grantaire, wondering if he shouldn’t have asked. He hadn’t brought it up again, knowing that it shouldn’t matter who Grantaire had been with before him, but every time Grantaire ended up lounging on his bed after dinner, slowly pulling him down to kiss him, Enjolras wondered if instead of pulling away after a while, inevitably causing Grantaire to kiss him goodnight and shuffle over to his own room, he should just let go of this stupidly irrational fear of not being good enough and keep going. He certainly wanted to.

It seemed that Grantaire was constantly worried that he was doing something wrong, though, that Enjolras might get angry with him, so he always made sure to give him space after he’d pulled away.

He didn’t have to, it wasn’t like Enjolras wanted him to _leave_ , sometimes he just needed a break to catch his breath and to sort out his thoughts. But apparently leaving was the better option to Grantaire.

Enjolras had also noticed that Grantaire had a habit of leaving right in the middle of arguments. He always came back to apologise later, didn’t rile him up again, just waited patiently until Enjolras finished his homework and curled up on his bed, watching him, or drawing, or reading.

Usually Enjolras couldn’t concentrate on his work for long when Grantaire was _right there_. And right now Grantaire was extremely distracting and he wasn’t even in the same room as Enjolras.

He was playing his guitar, had been for about half an hour, ever since they’d got back from breakfast, and Enjolras had put down his book that he needed to read for his English class in favour of listening to him. The problem was that he wasn’t getting any work done. He had an essay to write and he knew that if he went over to Grantaire’s room now, he wouldn’t get anything done for the rest of the day.

He walked over to Grantaire’s room anyway, knocking on his door a little more forcefully than intended. Grantaire called him in and Enjolras stomped inside, sitting down next to him, arms folded over his chest, trying to glare at him.

“Oh, what did I do now?” Grantaire said and put down his guitar. “I’m not gonna stop playing, if that’s what it is, because it’s fucking Sunday. Don’t tell me you’re still doing homework.”

“Well, I _tried_ to do my homework,” Enjolras grumbled.

Grantaire snorted. “Oh no, and now you’re gonna sulk at me?”

“I’m not sulking.” Enjolras leaned back against Grantaire’s pillows snatching a piece of chocolate from his bedside table.

Grantaire grinned and came a bit closer until his face was only inches from Enjolras’. “Well, I stopped playing, you can go do your homework now.”

Enjolras frowned at him, tugging him closer by his shirt. As if he would go back to his room now. Grantaire smiled and leaned in to kiss him, chastely at first, growing bolder when Enjolras pulled him into his lap.

This was usually as far as they went and Grantaire always made in a point in letting Enjolras take the lead, which was why their _extended make-out sessions_ , as Courfeyrac liked to call them, always either ended with them cuddling or with Grantaire leaving.

Grantaire sighed into one of his kisses, then he pulled back to catch his breath, Enjolras following his lips, accidentally knocking their noses together.

Grantaire snorted. “Easy there.” He brushed back Enjolras’ hair, still laughing.

Enjolras bit his lip, letting out a quite frankly embarrassing giggle that only made Grantaire laugh even more.

“I’m sorry,” Grantaire said when Enjolras stared at him accusingly, “but that was just too adorable.”

“I’m not adorable,” Enjolras said grumpily, sticking out his bottom lip.

“Ah, yeah, you totally are.” Grantaire nipped at his lip, and yeah, that was just so unfair because it basically wiped every coherent thought he’d ever had right from his brain.

Enjolras tightened his arms around Grantaire to pull him flush against him. His fingers wandered under his shirt on their own accord. Maybe he should have asked for permission, because Grantaire tensed for a second and Enjolras stilled, looking at him questioningly. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Grantaire shook his head. “No, it’s alright.”

Which was basically permission for Enjolras to continue, although he wasn’t exactly sure what to do next. He slowly let his fingers wander up Grantaire’s spine, pulling up his shirt in the process. Grantaire lifted his arms so Enjolras could tug it off, and it wasn’t like Enjolras had never seen him shirtless before, but this was different somehow.

He was nervous now, because this was going in a direction that Enjolras wasn’t used to, he didn’t know what came next and Grantaire still seemed to be set on letting Enjolras decide on what exactly was going to happen, but right now Enjolras wanted nothing more than for Grantaire to tell him what to do next.

Grantaire shifted in his lap, and Enjolras let out an involuntary groan, his fingers digging into Grantaire’s sides.

Grantaire looked at him with wide eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “Okay, we need to… um, take a quick break.” He pulled away, chewing on his bottom lip as he always did when he was nervous. “I’m meeting Bahorel in about twenty minutes and as much as I’d love to continue this, I don’t think now’s the right time for whatever this was leading up to.”

Enjolras nodded, somehow relieved, but at the same time incredibly frustrated, because he wanted to get his hands back on Grantaire, and he wanted Grantaire’s hands back on him. But mostly he was just confused, really.

“I guess, I’ll, um, finish that essay now,” Enjolras mumbled, quickly scrambling off Grantaire’s bed, wondering how obvious the bulge in his jeans was and exactly how embarrassed he was supposed to be about this whole thing.

“Oh, right, yeah,” Grantaire muttered, tugging his fingers through his curls. “I’ll see you later, I guess?”

“Yeah, see you later,” Enjolras whispered and fled back to his own room.

Enjolras spent the rest of the morning not doing his homework but pacing up and down the length of his room, his mind racing, until Grantaire came to get him for lunch, strangely cautious and a lot quieter than he usually was.

During lunch Enjolras was distracted by Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who were bickering across the table – it was loving bickering, Courfeyrac said – but they were still pretty distracting. Their discussion ended in Courfeyrac threatening to set Combeferre’s biology textbook on fire, which was when everyone decided it was probably for the best to just leave.

“So,” Grantaire said, quietly enough so only Enjolras could hear, “did you get your homework done?”

“Not really,” Enjolras replied, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Do you still want to… hang out? Joly and Bossuet are going into town, we could go with them if you want.” Grantaire tilted his head, looking at him as if he was trying to guess what Enjolras would most likely say yes to. “Or not,” he added when Enjolras didn’t answer right away.

“You could come back to my room with me,” Enjolras said quickly.

Grantaire hummed, his lips twitching into a lopsided smile. “You know,” he said when he sat down on Enjolras’ bed, “I wasn’t sure if you… um, I don’t know, you just sort of looked a little freaked out earlier and yeah…” He shrugged and scooted back so he could lean against the wall.

“I wasn’t freaked out,” Enjolras said, forcing himself not to start pacing again.

Grantaire raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Maybe a little,” Enjolras whispered.

Grantaire nodded slowly. “I mean, I sort of get it, I guess? I’m scared as fuck that I’ll do something wrong and that you’ll think that I want to, I don’t know, Enjolras, that I want something you don’t want and that you think you can’t say no?”

“I’m perfectly capable of saying no to you.” Grantaire should know that. “I just…” He shrugged helplessly. He wanted to be good at this. He wanted to make Grantaire happy, he wanted to be a good boyfriend, but he wasn’t sure what being a good boyfriend entailed. Not freaking out about sleeping with said boyfriend maybe.  

“Do you want to come here?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras nodded and crawled into Grantaire’s lap, sighing contently when Grantaire wrapped his arms around him.

“Okay, so far so good. So, what did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But?”

Enjolras hid his face in the crook of Grantaire’s neck. “Nothing.”

“Come on, we’ve been going out or whatever, for nearly two months, just tell me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“I don’t care, spit it out.”

“What if I’m not good at it?” Enjolras said so quietly that he wasn’t even sure if Grantaire had heard him at first.

“Really, _you_ are worried about that,” Grantaire said. “You.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you’re the one who’s never been with anyone. If anyone’s gonna end up being a huge disappointment, it’ll be me, because I’m supposed to know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Enjolras grumbled.

“Oh, _I’m_ being ridiculous?”

“Obviously.”

Grantaire laughed quietly and nuzzled into his hair. “Sometimes I don’t even know why you put up with me.”

“Because,” Enjolras said decidedly and tilted his head so he could kiss him.

“You’ll never overthrow the government with arguments like that one.”

“You don’t really need arguments for overthrowing governments.”

“Good point, but you can’t do it alone and if you want to convince people to help you, you’re gonna need better arguments.” Grantaire’s fingers wandered along the hem of his shirt, brushing against his skin here and there.

Enjolras shivered. “Well, it’s a little hard to come up with good arguments when you’re distracting me. Anyway,” he continued, trying very hard to concentrate on what he was saying, trying not to focus on Grantaire’s fingers that had slipped under his shirt and were now resting on his waist, burning into his skin, “I don’t want to overthrow anything, not necessarily at least, if you listened to me you’d know that. I just want-”

“I do know that, Enjolras,” Grantaire interrupted and quickly stole a kiss. “I always listen to you.”

“And then you make fun of everything I say.”

“You blush so nicely when you’re angry,” Grantaire whispered.

“Grantaire…”

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

Enjolras shook his head. “I forgot.”

“Well, that’s a first,” Grantaire said, laughing.  “By the way,” he added, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Hm?” Enjolras sucked at Grantaire’s neck, because, really, two could play that game.

“Are you staying here during Easter break, because…”

“Yeah?” he prompted and kissed the corner of Grantaire’s mouth, slowly working his way along his jaw.

Grantaire whined. “Jesus, can you stop doing that for a second?”

Enjolras stilled, but didn’t pull away.

“So, are you staying here? Because you stayed during half term so I thought you might.”

“I was planning on it. My parents are too busy splitting all their belongings to even care.”

Grantaire’s arms tightened around him. “I’m sorry. You barely even talk about them anymore.”

“Well, there’s not much to say.”

“I’m here if… well, if there ever is anything to say. You know, just in case you want to.”

“My mum might go to rehab. So she can get sole custody. Probably won’t work, but…” Enjolras trailed off, shrugging. He’d talked to Cosette about this. They’d both agreed that chances were that they’d end up with their father. “Anyway, as far as I know they’re concerned with who gets the Picasso at the moment.”

“You have a Picasso?” Grantaire cleared his throat. “Sorry, that was… um, yeah. I’m pretty sure you could spend the summer with Courf? I mean, my dad probably wouldn’t want me to invite people over, he always gets kinda pissed off when I suggest it, but I’ll spend a couple of weeks with my grandparents, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you came to visit.”

“Thanks,” Enjolras mumbled, cuddling a little closer. He was pretty sure he’d be spending the summer with his father, who’d probably talk him into doing an internship at his company. Enjolras had thought about doing some volunteer work, but he had a feeling that his father wouldn’t be all too happy about that. He hadn’t brought it up so far, he barely even talked to him, except for the occasional email here and there, inquiring how he was doing, how his schoolwork was going, and so on. Enjolras always wrote a half-hearted reply and that was that.

“Anyway, if you happen to stay here during Easter break… Valjean always organises a trip for the people who stay and this time they’re taking us to that theme park that’s not too far from here, it’s not really big or anything, but yeah, he does that and we usually all stay here and go together… to wherever it is they’re taking us.”

“That’s nice,” Enjolras mumbled, burying his face in Grantaire’s hoodie. Grantaire loved that hoodie, which was the only reason that Enjolras hadn’t stolen it from him yet. Well, not the _only_ reason. Enjolras also wasn’t sure what Grantaire would think if Enjolras started stealing his clothes. He just liked the thought of it somehow, and that stupid green hoodie was just really cuddly and it smelled like Grantaire.

“It is,” Grantaire agreed. He tucked a stray curl behind Enjolras’ ear, looking down at him with a smile. “Now, have you done that weird ass biology homework yet?”

“I’m not letting you copy it.”

“Ah, come one, I’ve saved you from failing art class.”

“That’s different.”

“How is that different?”

“You could easily do it on your own.”

Grantaire groaned. “Well, I guess I have to go, then.” He let out a long-suffering sigh and pushed Enjolras off of him with a snicker.

Enjolras watched him go with a frown, then he picked up his phone to call his parents to tell them that he wouldn’t be coming home for Easter break.


	23. Chapter 23

“Are you busy?” Enjolras asked, forcing himself not to hug Grantaire from behind once he’d caught up with him in the hallway.

“I have to do some stuff for Latin, but when I’m done with that I’m all yours.”

“Or you could just get your textbook and do whatever it is you have to do in my room,” Enjolras suggested.

Grantaire laughed and went to fetch his textbook, Enjolras spent the next half hour sitting behind Grantaire, peering over his shoulder, kissing his neck every now and then, running his fingers through his hair.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire whined, dropping his pen. He turned his head so he could look at him. “Stop it, I mean it, I’ll never get this done.”

Enjolras hummed and let off for a couple of minutes, just nosing along the line of Grantaire’s neck, playing with a curl here and there. Eventually Grantaire sighed, slammed his book shut and dropped it on the floor together with his notepad.

“I give up,” he muttered and turned around, straddling Enjolras’ hips, a smirk on his face. Enjolras leaned back against his pillow, letting out a happy sigh when Grantaire leaned down to kiss him. Grantaire was incredibly skilled when it came to kissing, not that Enjolras had anything he could compare it to, but he most definitely enjoyed it.

Grantaire kissed his way down his neck, then he slowly pushed Enjolras’ shirt out of the way, glancing up at him for permission first before he started sucking bruises into his skin. It had Enjolras squirming within seconds, and when Grantaire worked himself up to his nipples, lazily flicking his tongue over one of them, Enjolras let out a low whine.

Grantaire looked up, his eyes wide and dark, a satisfied smirk playing around his lips. “You like that, huh?” he asked and proceeded to do it again.

Yes, Enjolras most definitely liked it. He was painfully hard and his usual technique of just ignoring it until it went away didn’t really work that well at the moment. His fingers wandered into Grantaire’s hair, tugging until he got the hint and turned his attention back to Enjolras’ mouth.

He let his hands wander down Grantaire’s back to his ass, briefly wondering if Grantaire would even be okay with that, which he most definitely was, because he moaned quietly, a sound that Enjolras wanted to commit to memory and never forget for the rest of his life, grinding down against him, making Enjolras moan in turn.

Enjolras barely registered the knock on his door, he only snapped out of it when he heard Courfeyrac’s voice. “Enjolras, are you gonna come have dinner with us?”

He sat up, not taking into account that Grantaire wasn’t going to do the same, banging their heads together painfully.

Grantaire groaned. “Just a second, Courf.”

“Oh, hey Grantaire, fancy meeting you here,” Courfeyrac called.

Grantaire sat back, his eyes still on Enjolras. “You know what, just go ahead, we’ll be down in a bit.”

“Alright,” Courfeyrac said, sounding somewhat confused.

“I think I’m gonna need a minute,” Grantaire muttered, his lips twitching into a smile. “You look nice,” he added, looking down at Enjolras.

Enjolras bit his lip and quickly tugged his shirt back into place, fairly certain that he was blushing furiously. Grantaire’s face was flushed as well and his hair was a complete mess, curls sticking up here and there where Enjolras had tugged on them.

Enjolras let himself fall back onto to mattress with a groan.

“Wow, can you maybe not do that right now?” Grantaire muttered.

“What?” Enjolras asked, frowning. He wasn’t doing anything.

“Don’t look all flustered and make noises like that, it’s really not helping.” Grantaire stood up, stretching and _that_ wasn’t helping either, because it caused Grantaire’s shirt to ride up and Enjolras briefly considered skipping dinner in favour of getting that shirt off Grantaire.

He only sighed and stood up as well, though. “We better get going.”

* * *

“Enjolras,” Courfeyrac whispered as he sat down next to him. And, really, Enjolras had no idea why he was whispering, because there was no one around. Grantaire was sitting by the window, working on something for the drama group, Combeferre and Joly were sitting at the table, discussing some experiment they wanted to try to do, not paying any attention to what happened around them.

“Courfeyrac?” Enjolras asked warily. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to apologise for the other day, you know, when I sort of interrupted you and Grantaire? I didn’t know you guys were... hanging out and yeah, sorry about that.”

Enjolras frowned. “It’s fine.”

“Okay, good, that’s great.”

“Yeah, great,” Enjolras echoed.

Courfeyrac grinned. “I really don’t want to be nosy or anything,” he started, which was a pretty good indicator for how nosy he was about to be, “but did you guys-”

“Sshhh,” Enjolras hissed and elbowed Courfeyrac in the ribs. “No, we didn’t.”

“Oh? Because it sort of looked like you had and I just wanted to say that if you need someone to talk about awkward sex stuff, I’m your man.”

Enjolras nodded slowly, eyes quickly darting over to Grantaire, who was still staring at his sketchbook, looking like he was about to set it on fire. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Okay,” Courfeyrac said and gave him a pat on the back. “It’s just that my first time was incredibly awkward and I really needed someone to talk to and I think ‘Ferre really wanted to murder me back then.”

Enjolras only nodded again, because he was perfectly fine with not talking about any of this with anyone. Thankfully Courfeyrac quickly let it go and started telling him about the play that the drama group was doing this year and Enjolras did his best to follow what he was saying. 

It wasn’t until later, when they’d all shuffled off to their rooms and Enjolras had gone to bed, that his mind wandered back to Grantaire. He’d tried to bring it up a couple of times, had tried to tell Grantaire that it was fine, that he was okay with whatever was going to happen between them, he just wanted to talk it through, that was all, but it was actually the hardest part.

It didn’t help that they kept getting interrupted, either by their friends or by Grantaire himself, who was still trying not to push it too far and kept finding excuses for why he needed to go all of a sudden.

Enjolras turned over when he got tired of staring at the ceiling and proceeded to stare at the wall next to his bed.

Grantaire was behind that wall, probably fast asleep, because it was late and he didn’t stay awake worrying about the stupidest things. Grantaire was a sound sleeper, and he fell asleep everywhere – leaning against Bahorel, sitting on a chair in the common room, curled up on Enjolras’ bed, using both their maths homework as a pillow.

Enjolras had noticed that Grantaire talked in his sleep, mumbled words that Enjolras couldn’t understand, sometimes he snored, and he always curled up into a ball. Sometimes Enjolras thought back to the night Grantaire had spent in his room, but he could hardly remember it, could only think about how grumpy he’d been and how embarrassed he’d been in the morning.

He stared at the wall for a few more minutes, then he slipped out of bed. He knew this was a horrible idea, Lamarque had told them not to do this, but Enjolras had never been one for sticking to the rules, so he stepped out into the hallway as quietly as he could.

The hall was dark and empty and if anyone saw him, he could always say that he was on his way to the bathrooms.

Enjolras didn’t knock on Grantaire’s door, didn’t dare, because someone might hear, so he swiftly went inside and managed to close the door again without making a noise. He found Grantaire fast asleep as he’d expected, even though it was almost too dark to see. Enjolras could still make him out – his leg was hanging off the mattress and he’d kicked off the duvet.

He stepped closer and sat down on the mattress and gently touched Grantaire’s arm.

Or at least he thought he’d done it gently, but Grantaire jerked awake with wide eyes. “Jesus fuck, what the hell?”

“It’s me,” Enjolras said as quietly as he could.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire asked, his voice rough. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras whispered, looking around, listening for any sound outside the door. If anyone caught him in Grantaire’s room they were both screwed.

Grantaire sat up, frowning at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I just… I wanted to talk to you.”

“And that couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning?”

Enjolras shook his head. “No, I mean, yes, maybe. I don’t know.”

“Something wrong?”

“Not really, no. I’ll just go back to my room, sorry I woke you up.”

“Hey,” Grantaire mumbled and tugged at his shirt, “wait a second.”

Enjolras did wait, stayed very still when Grantaire put his arms around him and pulled him into a hug. “I’m not saying you have to tell me, you know, but I’m kinda curious why you came to wake me up in the middle of the night.”

“Can I stay here for a bit?” Enjolras asked. He knew it was ridiculous and he really hadn’t expected Grantaire to say yes as quickly as he did.

“Yeah, sure, come here.” Grantaire tugged him down onto the mattress, made sure he had enough space and tucked the sheets around him.

Enjolras snuggled against him, tangling their legs together, sighing contently when Grantaire started combing his fingers through his hair.

“Well,” Grantaire muttered, “good night?”

“I’m not going to sleep here,” Enjolras mumbled, “what if someone comes in and finds us?”

“Enjolras, seriously, in all the years I’ve been here no one has ever come into my room in the middle of the night. Except for you. And Courfeyrac, but only to get me to break into the swimming pool with him.”

Enjolras hummed. “I’m still going to go back, I don’t really want to take that risk.” He gave Grantaire a quick kiss.

Grantaire huffed out a laugh and kissed him back, slowly and carefully, his hand resting on Enjolras’ hip, his thumb rubbing slow circles. Enjolras inched closer and wrapped an arm around Grantaire’s waist so he could pull him flush against him.

It was easier to let his hands roam here in the darkness, it didn’t seem like a big deal. Grantaire’s nimble fingers found their way under his shirt once again, wandering up his spine and back down again to the hem of his pyjama trousers, slipping past the waistband and stilling right there.

Enjolras was panting, trying so, so hard to be quiet, but it wasn’t as easy as he’d imagined.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire whispered against his lips, lightly tugging at his pyjama trousers. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Enjolras breathed, “don’t stop.”

Grantaire didn’t move for a couple of seconds, watching his face closely, as best as he could in the darkness of his room, maybe waiting for him to change his mind. Enjolras was sure about this, though, it was fine, he trusted Grantaire, he’d stop if Enjolras told him to stop at any point.

Grantaire slowly pushed down his pyjamas, but left his boxers in place for now, his fingers quickly ghosting over his cock before he turned his attention back to kissing Enjolras, who only barely managed to bite back a moan.

Enjolras wasn’t sure if it was the general lack of air, or Grantaire’s tongue or his hands, but Enjolras felt like he’d temporarily forgotten how to breathe. He was dimly aware that he was clinging to Grantaire, his fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, trying to get closer to him.

Grantaire breathed out a sigh, cupping Enjolras’ cheek with his hand, thumb running along his cheekbone. “You okay?”

Enjolras nodded, not sure if Grantaire could even see. He let his fingers wander down his back, squeezing his ass, at which Grantaire let out some kind of undignified snort.

“Sorry, was that bad?” Enjolras asked, his voice hushed. Trust him to make this awkward.

“No, it’s all good,” Grantaire whispered, nipping at his bottom lip. “May I?” he asked and hooked a finger around the waistband of his boxers.

Enjolras hesitated for a second before he helped Grantaire tug off his boxers, whimpering when Grantaire slowly started jerking him off.

Enjolras had done this before, not often, not in a while, but he had, but it felt so entirely different when it was Grantaire doing it – it felt so much better. He was pretty sure that he was making noises that he’d want to take back in the morning, torn somewhere between keeping quiet and not caring if anyone heard.

Grantaire was quite obviously practised, he knew what he was doing and quickly figured out how to make Enjolras squirm and whimper. Enjolras came embarrassingly quickly, his face pressed into the crook of Grantaire’s neck. He could feel Grantaire move, but stayed very still for a moment, not sure if he could will his own body to make any movements just yet.

Once he’d caught is breath at least a little bit, his hands still a bit shaky, he turned to reciprocate, smiling at the whispered stream of curses Grantaire let out when Enjolras took him in hand.

Afterwards, after Grantaire had made an attempt at cleaning them both up a little, he curled himself around Grantaire, even though he knew he needed to get back to his own room, but Grantaire was playing with his hair and kissing him every now and then, so he decided to stay for a little while longer.

“Was it…” Grantaire shifted, inching away just a little. “Was that okay? Because I swear I didn’t plan on it to happen like this, I mean technically this was your first time and it’s the middle of the night and I’m sure didn’t want it to happen like this either, shit, we should have talked about this beforehand.”

“It was good,” Enjolras said, smiling broadly. “Great,” he corrected, “really.” Sure, he had wanted to talk about it, but somewhere halfway through he’d forgotten what he’d even wanted to talk about. It had been just fine the way it was. He couldn’t have found anyone kinder, anyone who cared about him more than Grantaire, and it was scary and exhilarating at the same time.

He could hear Grantaire breath out a relieved sigh. “Okay, I’m glad.”

“Why did you laugh earlier?”

“I didn’t laugh,” Grantaire mumbled, nudging him gently. “It’s just that usually you’re, um, sort of reluctant? And just now you weren’t. At all. It was… sweet.”

“Sweet?” Enjolras echoed, a little too loudly.

Grantaire shushed him and put his hand over his mouth. “Hush.”

“I should go back to my room,” Enjolras mumbled against Grantaire’s palm.

“Five more minutes?” Grantaire asked, tucking his head back under Enjolras chin.

“Fine, five more minutes.”

* * *

“Shit.”

Enjolras eyes flew open, blinking rapidly. For a second he wasn’t quite sure where he was. Then he remembered what had happened last night, that he’d meant to stay just a little while longer, but he must have fallen asleep. Well, that hadn’t gone as planned.

Grantaire elbowed him in the ribs. “Wake up.”

“I am awake,” Enjolras muttered, sitting up slowly. He was only wearing his shirt, Grantaire was completely naked as he untangled himself from the sheets and jumped out of bed.

Enjolras clearly wasn’t awake yet, because he found himself staring at Grantaire’s bare ass for a few seconds too long. Grantaire started yanking clothes out of his closet, pulling them on in a hurry, cursing.

“What…”

“Get up,” Grantaire said and threw a clean pair of boxers at him, “and hurry.”

Enjolras only frowned at him.

A pair of socks hit him in the head. “We have class in five minutes, _get up_.”

“What about breakfast?” Enjolras asked, turning around to look at Grantaire’s alarm clock. Which wasn’t working. Fantastic.

Grantaire came stumbling over, pulling on his jeans on the way, and lit up his phone. “See? Four minutes.”

That got Enjolras moving, because his first class of the day was politics with Lamarque and he really couldn’t be late for that. He pulled on the boxers and socks Grantaire had thrown at him, grabbed Grantaire’s green hoodie that was conveniently hanging over his chair, then he ran over to his own room to wriggle into a pair of jeans, put on his shoes and grabbed his textbooks.

“See you later,” he called to Grantaire, running off down the hall before Grantaire, who was sitting on the floor in his room, trying to get into his Converse, even had a chance to reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thank you so much for all the kudos!  
> (By the way, exams start next week, and although I'm pretty sure I'll be able to update on Friday as usual, I just wanted to let you know in case I won't.)


	24. Chapter 24

Enjolras stumbled into Lamarque’s classroom only seconds before the bell rang and slipped into his seat between Combeferre and Courfeyrac, breathing heavily.

“What the hell,” Courfeyrac whispered. “Where were you?”

Enjolras kept quiet and tried his hardest to concentrate on what Lamarque was saying, which was quite hard since Courfeyrac was still staring at him.

“That is not yours,” Courfeyrac continued and tugged at Enjolras’ – no, Grantaire’s – hoodie. “ _Enjolras_.”

“Courfeyrac, is there anything you’d like to share with the class?”

“No, Sir, nothing at all.”

Five minutes later Courfeyrac pushed a little note over the table. _that’s r’s hoodie i know it is_

Enjolras gave a vague shrug in reply. There really was no point in lying about this, because it was quite obvious that it was Grantaire’s hoodie. It was the one he wore all the time, there was no way Courfeyrac wouldn’t know that.

Another note. _why weren’t you at breakfast?_ Followed by another one. _why wasn’t r at breakfast???_

Enjolras turned to glare at him and did so for the rest of the lesson. He also tried his hardest to ignore Combeferre, who was trying to stifle his giggles all the while.

“So, why weren’t you at breakfast?” Courfeyrac asked as soon as they were out the door on the way to their next class.

“Why didn’t you come to wake me up?” Enjolras asked in return. He hardly ever set his alarm because he knew that either Combeferre or Courfeyrac would come to wake him up.

“We did,” Combeferre said lowly. He seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

“Yeah, you weren’t there,” Courfeyrac added, poking him in the ribs. “So where were you?”

“You know exactly where I was,” Enjolras muttered angrily.

Courfeyrac wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Aw, Enjolras, no reason to blush.”

“Shut up,” Enjolras grumbled and shook off Courfeyrac’s arm.

Enjolras spent the rest of the day not thinking about the fact that he was actually wearing Grantaire’s underwear and tried very hard not to smell at the goddamned hoodie.

Grantaire kept grinning at him all throughout lunch, which Enjolras really couldn’t wait for since he hadn’t eaten all day, and all classes they had together that day and was still grinning when Enjolras took him by the hand and dragged him back to his room after their last lesson.

“You look nice in green,” Grantaire mumbled, the end of the sentence a little muffled because Enjolras leaned in to kiss him. “Then again, you look nice in every colour,” he added when Enjolras pulled away long enough for him to catch his breath.

Grantaire, still beaming, let Enjolras pull him over to his bed and let himself fall back onto the mattress, huffing out a laugh. “Can you come down here?”

Enjolras leaned down so he was face to face with Grantaire, wondering if he should make an effort to keep the smile of his face because Grantaire was looking so damn serious all of a sudden. “Something wrong?”

“I just wanted to ask you about, um… last night? And that thing that happened,” Grantaire said, keeping his eyes on Enjolras, studying his face carefully. “I just wanted to ask if that was okay. I mean, you already said it was okay last night, but that was last night, and I just wanted to make sure that it’s still okay… if that makes sense.”

Enjolras nodded, suddenly feeling very, very warm and like he wanted to hug Grantaire for the rest of eternity and never let him leave this room. “It definitely was okay,” he whispered, inching closer so he could pull Grantaire into his arms. “It was more than okay.”

“Good, that’s good,” Grantaire muttered, smiling again.

“Do you…” Enjolras bit his lip. “Do you want your clothes back? The ones you let me borrow?”

Grantaire blinked at him.

“I mean, do you want them back right now?” God, he was so bad at this, he was halfway expecting Grantaire to laugh in his face.

“If you want to give them back right now,” Grantaire said, thankfully not laughing and definitely looking interested. “Sure.”

* * *

“Enjolras, wait up.”

Enjolras stopped in the middle of the hallway, looking around to find Grantaire running towards him. He and Bahorel had disappeared right before dinner and Enjolras wasn’t quite sure what they’d been up to.

Grantaire caught up with him, grinning. “We’re having a little party in Bahorel’s room tonight, are you coming?”

Enjolras wrinkled his nose. He still hated parties. “I think I’ll pass,” he muttered and starting walking again.

“Are you sure?” Grantaire asked, following at his heels. “I’ll be there, you know.”

Enjolras sighed. They basically hadn’t seen each other all weekend. Enjolras had thought they’d have time to spend more time with each other now that Easter break had started, but apparently he’d been dead wrong about that. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. All day.”

They were going on that trip to the amusement park the next day and they’d have to get up incredibly early, something that Enjolras wasn’t looking forward to at all and which was all the more reason to go to bed early. Which was what he also told Grantaire.

“Ah, come on, we can sleep on the bus,” Grantaire said, nudging him.

“I really don’t want to,” Enjolras grumbled, even though he knew that a party in Bahorel’s room couldn’t actually be much of a party. He still didn’t feel like attending anything that was even just labelled a _party_.

“Well, you know where to find us if you change your mind,” Grantaire said, quickly glancing up and down the hall before he gave Enjolras a chaste kiss.

Enjolras didn’t change his mind, spent most of the time reading up on volunteer work in and around his hometown, since he’d apparently be spending the summer with his father. And apparently he was also supposed to be happy about that particular fact.

He went to bed early, feeling a headache coming along, and tried to ignore the loud laughter drifting into his room from across the hall.

It didn’t take long for him to doze off, but he wasn’t sleeping as soundly as usual and he immediately woke up when he heard his door swing open. He sat up, looking at Grantaire, who closed the door not nearly as quietly as he’d opened it.

Grantaire stumbled over to his bed and sat down with a huff, leaning over to give Enjolras a kiss. He smelled of beer and cigarette smoke and Enjolras pushed him away with a weary sigh. “What are you doing here?”

“Just saying hello,” Grantaire muttered and made another attempt at kissing him.

“Go to bed.”

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“I don’t know Grantaire, when you came in, were the lights out and was I in bed? Because that would have been a dead giveaway for me being asleep.”

“No need to so sound so snappy.”

“I’m not sounding _snappy_.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Grantaire mumbled and let himself fall onto the mattress, not calculating that Enjolras was already taking up a big part of the bed, and nearly fell off.

Enjolras grabbed him and pulled him away from the edge. “What are you doing?” He was aware that he was sounding a little more exasperated than the situation required, but he really just wanted to sleep, and as much as he loved having Grantaire here, he didn’t really have the energy to deal with this right now.

“I’ll go back to my own room later, don’t worry,” Grantaire whispered and pulled Enjolras down, wrapping his arms around him.

Enjolras let him, but was still slightly annoyed.

“You should have come over to Bahorel’s room,” Grantaire said and started kissing his neck.

It felt nice, it always did, and on any other day he wouldn’t have minded in the slightest, but right now the only thing he really felt like doing was to sleep. “Grantaire, stop it.”

He did instantly, pulling back a little, and Enjolras could make out his wide eyes staring up at him in the dim light. “I’m sorry,” Grantaire said lowly. “What did I–”

“You’re drunk,” Enjolras said gruffly before Grantaire could even finish his question. “I don’t like it when you’re drunk, okay?”

“I’m not drunk,” Grantaire protested. “I had two beers, I’m not even tipsy.”

“Still,” Enjolras hissed. “Will you just go to bed and let me sleep?”

“Fine,” Grantaire whispered, and Enjolras wasn’t quite sure if he sounded angry or hurt. Either way, it made him feel horrible.

He watched as Grantaire tiptoed back out the door, not looking back at him as he left.

Five minutes later Enjolras already wanted to apologize, because he’d really fucked up and Grantaire probably hated him right now and they’d break up, all because Enjolras couldn’t keep his temper under control.

A door out in the hallway opened and closed again, but it wasn’t Grantaire’s, it was somewhere further down the hall. Enjolras sighed, wasted a few more minutes on deciding whether or not he should apologise right now or in the morning, but eventually fell asleep.

In the morning he was awake long before his alarm rang and long before Courfeyrac came barging into his room.

Courfeyrac was confused, that much was obvious, and when he felt Enjolras’ forehead and asked him if he was okay, Enjolras told that he obviously was, whatever would be wrong, he was fine, he’d just woken up early for once, it wasn’t a big deal.

They were amongst the first students who’d ventured down into the dining hall – not that a lot of students were staying at the school over the holidays or going to the amusement park.

Grantaire showed up for breakfast last minute with Jehan in tow and only briefly glanced at Enjolras before he stalked off to get some cereal. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept all night, and Enjolras couldn’t help but feel like that was his fault.

They didn’t talk at all and every time Enjolras looked over at him Grantaire was staring down at his breakfast, poking at his food.

When they clambered onto the bus less than an hour later, Enjolras thought about sitting down next to Grantaire for a second, but Grantaire only briefly looked up at him and then turned away to stare out the window almost instantly, so Enjolras sat down in the empty seat next to Combeferre a few rows further in the back.

Combeferre gave him a confused look but didn’t otherwise say anything. Jehan took the seat next to Grantaire when he came onto the bus only seconds later, Courfeyrac gave him a peck on the cheek as he walked by, smiling brightly at one of the kids who made gagging noises, and made his way past Joly and Bossuet and Marius and Cosette and then slid into the row behind Enjolras and Combeferre, sticking his head through the small space between their seats.

“Enjolras, what did you do?” Courfeyrac asked, his voice low.

“Why do you assume it was my fault?” Enjolras grumbled.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre both remained silent, which wasn’t exactly an answer, but Enjolras understood all the same. He knew himself well enough to know that he could be a bit too harsh sometimes. He got angry way too easily and he was aware that this was something he should probably work on, but sometimes he just couldn’t help himself.

Enjolras sighed. “I didn’t mean to be as rude as I was, okay? I was tired and I wanted to sleep and maybe I wasn’t that nice when I told Grantaire exactly that,” Enjolras muttered, staring at the back of Cosette’s head right in front of him, hoping she wouldn’t hear. She’d probably be on Grantaire’s side, and rightfully so. She was busy joking around with Marius, though, so Enjolras was safe to continue. “Anyway, now we’re not talking and I suppose I should apologise, I just don’t know how, because he seems to be really pissed off.”

“Enjolras,” Courfeyrac said, shaking his head, “just tell him you’re sorry.”

“But he hates me,” Enjolras said. He briefly looked up when Feuilly passed by, counting how many people were on the bus. “I’m pretty sure just saying sorry won’t cut it.”

“Are you just trying to be difficult,” Courfeyrac mumbled, suddenly gone from where he’d been perched when the bus started moving. He reappeared seconds later. “Seriously, he doesn’t _hate_ you. ‘Ferre, tell him that he doesn’t hate him.”

“Of course he doesn’t hate you,” Combeferre said dutifully. “He’s probably hurt, but if you continue to not say anything to him, he’ll probably start thinking that you’re still angry with him. And you don’t want that, right? Because you aren’t still angry with him?”

Enjolras nodded, not even surprised that Combeferre had successfully summed up all the things he’d not been able to voice.

“Okay, great,” Courfeyrac said and sat up. “Oi, Jehan, come here for a sec.”

Jehan didn’t react right away, but stood up a minute later and came stumbling down the aisle and landed right in Courfeyrac’s arms when the bus turned the corner. “What’s up?” Jehan asked, eyeing Enjolras.

“We needed the seat next to Grantaire empty,” Courfeyrac told him and nudged Enjolras. “Go before Bahorel wakes up and sits down next to him.”

Enjolras did, after nearly five minutes of encouragements, and flopped down in the seat next to Grantaire rather ungracefully. Grantaire was leaning against the window, hood pulled over his head, sleeping soundly. Enjolras bit his lip, not sure if he was supposed to wake him up or let him sleep since he’d apparently caused him a sleepless night.

The bus rattled right into a pothole, but Grantaire didn’t stir, although Enjolras was pretty sure that Grantaire’s forehead had bumped against the window.

Knowing how soundly Grantaire usually slept, Enjolras reached out and wrapped an arm around Grantaire, pulling him over to him until Grantaire was slumped against his chest, muttering something in his sleep and nuzzling at his neck.

It wasn’t until half an hour later that Grantaire woke up. Enjolras could tell by the way he first burrowed closer as he always did, only now he suddenly sat up, looking at Enjolras with wide eyes. “You’re not Jehan,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“Sorry,” Enjolras said, and wow, that hadn’t been so hard. He only had to put it in context now. “About last night,” he added hastily.

“No, I get it, I was being pushy and you were annoyed, seriously, it wasn’t your fault,” Grantaire said, pulling his sleeves over his hands. “So you’re not angry anymore, huh?”

Enjolras shook his head. “No, no, of course not. I was just in a bad mood.”

Grantaire smiled and leaned back down again, tucking his head back into the crook of Enjolras’ neck. “Okay,” Grantaire whispered. “I’m glad that you’re not mad at me anymore because you need to ride rollercoasters with me today and that would be so much less fun if you were still pissed off,” he added, already sounding a little more cheerful.

Enjolras felt a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not so sure about the rollercoasters.”

He did end up on a rollercoaster, probably squeezing Grantaire’s hand to a pulp. Afterwards he felt like he was going to be sick and Joly tried to put on his worried face whilst he was trying not to laugh at Grantaire, who was massaging his hand with a pained expression.

Enjolras stuck to the _boring_ rides then, convinced Grantaire to let him pay for his ice cream and then tugged him over to a bench across from the incredibly long queue for the presumably most exciting rollercoaster in the park. Apparently _everyone_ had had the idea to come here today, since the weather was nice and most kids were on Easter break.

Grantaire didn’t seem to have any intention to join their friends in the queue, just waved at them and shouted encouragements at them because at times the queue hardly moved along at all, and only stopped when Courfeyrac flipped him off and told Enjolras to make Grantaire shut up.

They sat in silence until they’d both finished their ice cream, and Grantaire had some on his nose and he was smiling and Enjolras could do nothing but stare at him until he realised that even  though it was his boyfriend he was staring at, this might be a little weird, so Enjolras cleared his throat and quickly looked away.

“What?” Grantaire asked and nudged him with his elbow.

“Nothing,” Enjolras replied quickly and reached out to wipe the ice cream splotch off Grantaire’s nose. “I, um, I just like you a lot,” he added even more quickly.

Grantaire let out some sort of suppressed yelp and for a second Enjolras thought that he might have said the wrong thing, but then he saw that Grantaire was smiling at him, so it couldn’t have been so bad.

“I really like you a lot, too,” Grantaire said quietly. “And I’m sorry about last night, too, I think I didn’t say that earlier, but I am sorry, I know things are sort of shitty with your mum and I guess I should have taken that into account when I came to visit you last night, which means I probably shouldn’t have come to visit you at all.”

Enjolras bit his lip. He didn’t want to talk about his mum or her drinking problem or about what his dad had said about her the evening before, because it hadn’t been pretty, and it really wasn’t the best topic of discussion at a stupid amusement park. “It’s fine, really, do you want to go and… go on a ride or something.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Sure, yeah. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Enjolras insisted, not even sure if it was a lie or not, and took Grantaire by the hand, dragging him over to one of the harmless looking rides.


	25. Chapter 25

“What are you doing up there?”

Enjolras looked up to where Grantaire was perched on the branch of the big willow tree by the lake, right in the same place Enjolras had found him in a couple of months ago. He really seemed to like it up there.

Grantaire looked down at him with a faint smile on his face. “Just hanging.”

“Jehan and Courfeyrac are setting up our picnic, do you want to come help us?”

“Nah, it’s nice up here,” Grantaire said and tucked his pencil behind his ear. “But you could always come up here and try to convince me to come back down with you.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. Really, there was no way he’d go climbing up a tree. He’d tried once, a very long time ago, and it hadn’t ended well for him. He’d broken his left arm, his parents had been yelling each other for days on end, blaming each other for what had happened – the only good thing had been that Cosette had given him her desserts for about a week.

Grantaire snorted. “Well, I’m not coming down.”

“Too bad,” Enjolras grumbled, turned to walk away to help Courfeyrac and Jehan, but found them making out on their picnic blanket. It seemed like they didn’t needed him to help with anything at all, so he returned to Grantaire, who was still smirking but had his eyes back on his sketchbook.

Enjolras eyed the tree warily, then he grabbed for one of the lower branches and pulled himself up. When he’d made it up to Grantaire, who’d scooted over to make space for him, Enjolras was panting and there were scratches all over his arms. “How the hell do you get up here without flaying yourself?” he grumbled, inspecting his arms with a frown.

Grantaire sighed and leaned back against him, dark curls tickling Enjolras’ chin. “It’s my very special talent.” He chuckled. “I used to have a tree house.”

“I see.” Enjolras nuzzled into Grantaire’s mop of curls. “What are you drawing?”

“Hm, just a thing,” Grantaire mumbled, tilting his head so he could kiss Enjolras’ jaw. He was silent for a while, interlacing his fingers with Enjolras’, slowly tracing the lines on his palms, sighing softly when Enjolras started pressing kisses to his neck.

“Is everything alright?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire wasn’t usually this quiet and it was somewhat disconcerting.

Grantaire hummed. “You know that summer school art thing I applied for?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras said and squeezed Grantaire tightly. “You’re in, aren’t you?”

“They invited me for an interview,” Grantaire said lowly. He didn’t sound too happy about it, though.

“But that’s great, isn’t it?” Enjolras asked, a little confused.

Grantaire sighed. “I can’t go.”

“What do you mean, you can’t go?”

“It’s in Paris.”

“Paris isn’t that far away.”

“That’s really not the problem. The interview’s in two weeks. On a Saturday. And I’d need my parents’ permission to leave school for a whole day if I want to go all the way to Paris,” Grantaire explained, his voice taking on an exasperated edge.

“And you think they won’t let you,” Enjolras said.

“Of course they won’t let me.”

“Have you asked them?” He knew that Grantaire’s parents were rather strict when it came to Grantaire’s future and that they didn’t want him to pursue an art degree, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t ask. It was just a summer programme after all.

“Enjolras, there’s absolutely no point in asking them. Unless I want to get yelled at for a prolonged amount of time.”

“What if you say you’re just going into town but actually go to Paris instead?” Enjolras suggested. “I could cover for you.”

“Are you trying to get me to break school rules? Enjolras, how scandalous… I mean, not that I haven’t had the exact same thought, but… I don’t know. If anyone finds out, they’re definitely gonna throw me out and if they find out that you helped me, you’re gonna get in trouble because of me.” Grantaire shrugged. “And what if I actually get in? How do I explain that to my dad? He’d never let me go anyway, he’d probably lock me in the basement to make sure I stay far, far away from anything I’d even remotely enjoy.”

Enjolras hummed thoughtfully. “You could always try again next year.”

“Yeah, right,” Grantaire muttered.

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t matter, okay? I shouldn’t have applied in the first place.”

“Don’t they have regular classes, too?” Enjolras asked curiously.

“They do, but I go to school here,” Grantaire said slowly as if Enjolras was being especially dim-witted right now.

“Only for one more year.”

“And then you think I could go to art school? My dad would never pay for that, not a billion years.”

Grantaire did have a point, but he was pretty sure that Grantaire would be able to find some way to pay for it. “What about your grandparents?”

“They don’t have the money.”

“What if you-”

“Enjolras, stop it, it’s not gonna happen,” Grantaire said angrily.

“Okay, fine, I’m sorry.” Enjolras kissed Grantaire’s cheek. “I just think you shouldn’t give up just yet.”

Grantaire groaned. “Look, giving up is something I’m good at. This isn’t the first time I tried getting into art school, but this was actually the first time I even got a reply. And that was just an invitation for an interview and it’s probably not even the first round of interviews, so maybe I made it on the waiting list or whatever. Anyway, I’m really not getting my hopes up.”

“But you are _so_ good,” Enjolras protested.

“Enjolras, no offense, but to you pretty much everything would look _good_.”

“I’m just saying-”

“Hey lovebirds, care to join us?” Bahorel called up the tree, waggling his eyebrows at them. “We’re all set up.”

“We’ll be there in a second,” Grantaire said, waiting until Bahorel had left again to where Jehan had set up their picnic behind the tree, far away from everyone else strolling and sitting around the lake, before he turned around to look at Enjolras. “Do you need help getting down?”

Enjolras made a strangled noise. Yes, he definitely needed help.

Grantaire snorted and then jumped off their branch without much of an effort, instructing Enjolras to throw down his sketchbook, which he did, then he told Enjolras to jump down as well.

“Jump?” Enjolras echoed. “I’m not jumping, I’m going to climb back down.”

“Nah, it’s so much easier to just jump.” Grantaire grinned. “Come on, you’re not that far up. I’ll catch you.”

There was absolutely no way that Grantaire was going to catch him. Enjolras sighed and stood up, his legs shaky, and gripped a branch above him so he wouldn’t fall off the tree. He made his way down until there was no other choice for him but to jump.

Grantaire did make an effort to actually catch him, which resulted in both of them falling over, landing on the grass with a huff and a chuckle. “Ah, this is nice,” Grantaire muttered, staring up at him.

Enjolras sat up, still straddling Grantaire’s hips, smiling down at him.

“Guys, seriously, we’re gonna eat all the food without you,” Courfeyrac screamed as he came walking up to them. He turned around immediately when he found them still on the ground. “Never mind, take your time.”

Grantaire started laughing and pulled Enjolras down, still smiling against his lips when he kissed him. “Okay,” he muttered after a minute or two, maybe after half an hour, Enjolras couldn’t really tell, “let’s get something to eat.”

Much as Courfeyrac had told them, most of the food was gone by the time they made it over to the two massive picnic blankets. They shared a sandwich and a muffin and had some of the watermelon that Jehan had hidden from the others so there’d be at least _something_ left for them.

“It’s going to rain,” Bossuet muttered to Joly, loud enough for everyone else to hear.

“Please don’t say that,” Jehan said, shaking his head. “It’s not going to rain, we’re having a picnic, there’s no rain allowed.”

“But look at those clouds,” Bossuet managed to say before Joly and Musichetta reached over to cover his mouth at the same time. They all started giggling and Enjolras was pretty sure that Courfeyrac was seconds away from cooing at them.

Combeferre made it his task to put all the empty Tupperware cartons – God knows where Jehan and Courfeyrac had got all of those – back into the basket, making sure everything was all cleaned up, while Bahorel and Eponine started a game of cards and Courfeyrac started musing about how cold the water in the lake probably was. Enjolras was pretty sure that he also heard him whisper something about skinny dipping to Jehan.

Enjolras then turned to look at Grantaire, who was lying splayed out half on the blanket, half on the lawn, his eyes closed, and briefly wondered what skinny dipping with him would be like. Enjolras looked around, noted that it was really only their friends who were around, and lowered himself down to pillow his head on Grantaire’s chest.

He was dimly aware that now Courfeyrac really cooed at something and Enjolras was pretty certain that it was directed at them, but he chose to ignore him.

Enjolras made himself comfortable and closed his eyes as well, just listening to Grantaire’s steady heartbeat for a while. It was pretty hard to find a good time for them to be together since they were both studying for their end-of-year exams and there really was zero privacy in their dorm. They still snuck into each other’s room in the dead of the night every now and then, once they’d ended up in the same shower, but other than that they contended themselves with cuddling or at least being in close vicinity of each other whilst they were studying.

He was glad that they’d all together decided to take the day off.

A raindrop hit Enjolras on the nose not too much later, then there was a collective groan as everyone jumped up and started collecting all of their stuff. Enjolras pulled Grantaire to his feet, saw that there was nothing left for them to grab, so he took Grantaire’s hand and dragged him back towards the school.

They rain started pouring down on them when they’d almost made it back, at which point they all started running, but Enjolras was pretty sure that by the time they actually made it inside they would all be drenched from head to toe.

They were all laughing when they made their way up the stairs, agreeing to just have the picnic in the common room. They all quickly ran into their own rooms to pull on dry clothes and Enjolras let out a little huff of surprise when Grantaire tugged him into his room.

“What are you…”

Grantaire shushed him and pulled him close, kissing him until he was breathless, then he pulled away with a grin. “Sorry, I just really had to.”

Enjolras smiled and leaned in for another kiss, and Grantaire obliged happily, wrapping his arms around him and reminding him that he should probably change. Grantaire probably wouldn’t mind if Enjolras helped him out of his damp clothes.

He tugged at Grantaire’s shirt and Grantaire instantly got the hint, broke away for a second to tug off his shirt, immediately followed by Enjolras’, and then went back to kissing him, his hands wandering down Enjolras’ back to his ass, squeezing lightly before he pulled away again. “I’m pretty sure everyone’s waiting for us,” he whispered.

“And I’m pretty sure that they’ll be fine without us for a bit,” Enjolras muttered, tugging at the hem of Grantaire’s jeans.

Grantaire smiled and gave him a chaste kiss, brushing their noses together before he pulled away again just to move on to Enjolras’ neck. Enjolras sighed and twined his fingers into Grantaire’s curls. “Grantaire,” he whispered, “I really want to sleep with you.”

Grantaire froze and Enjolras really got why – that had just sounded so much more stupid than it had in his head. “What?” Grantaire asked lowly.

“I’ve just… been thinking about it.” A lot, he’d been thinking about it a lot. Especially lately. He’d never actually wanted to bring it up until today, but right now had somehow seemed like the right time.

“About sleeping with me,” Grantaire said. “Okay, I assume you’re talking about… um, what we’ve not actually done yet?”

Enjolras bit his lip and nodded.

Grantaire took a deep breath. “Okay.” He nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on something behind Enjolras’ shoulder.

“Grantaire, can you bring some of your chocolate?” Jehan called from down the hall.

“Okay,” Grantaire said again, completely ignoring Jehan, “yeah, that’s obviously not going to happen right now. But we’re going to talk about it. When our friends aren’t waiting for us. When we’re both dressed. And not wearing wet jeans. Later. We can talk about it later, is that okay?”

“Sure,” Enjolras said, nodding again, “later sounds good.”

Grantaire stared retrieving chocolate bars from his drawer, Enjolras picked up his shirt and quickly shuffled back to his own room, pulling on dry clothes as fast as he could before he went back to Grantaire’s room to help him carry all his chocolate to the common room.

* * *

Enjolras couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t concentrate on his notes, or the essay he was supposed to write, he was just staring down at an empty piece of paper, his thoughts on Grantaire.

Grantaire had gone outside with Joly and Bossuet to study for their Latin exam  after dinner and he’d asked Enjolras if he wanted to join them, but Enjolras had known full well that he wouldn’t get any studying done as long as was in the same place as Grantaire. Especially because it was still incredibly hot outside and Grantaire would probably be shirtless and that would definitely be the end of Enjolras’ coherency and general ability to think straight.

Although right now it wasn’t going that well for him either, because he kept thinking about Grantaire, sitting somewhere in the grass, enjoying the evening sun. Shirtless.

Enjolras groaned and pushed his nonexistent essay to the side and decided to check his emails instead. He’d messaged the charity organisations in his hometown, the only one they had, if they needed a volunteer for the summer, even though he knew that his dad wanted him to help out at the company. But Cosette wasn’t forced into taking a specific summer job, she’d just work as a lifeguard at the local swimming pool again, so why shouldn’t he be allowed to pick whatever he wanted?

There was a very enthusiastic email waiting for him – apparently they were happy to have him. They also didn’t mind that he wanted to take a couple of days off in between. He was still planning on seeing Grantaire.

He couldn’t help but smile at the thought, because they’d made plans involving the two of them and some shabby hotel in Paris. They’d come up with that after Grantaire had pointed out that neither of their parents would be happy about them visiting each other and that they’d have to make sure nobody would catch them making out twenty-four hours a day. That basically wouldn’t be any better than being here at school.

So they’d go to Paris and they’d share a room, and they’d have a bed that they’d both fit onto comfortably and Grantaire had agreed that if Enjolras still wanted to, they could sleep together, and yeah, he really shouldn’t have thought about that right now.

Enjolras stood up, walked up and down the length of his room for a while, trying not to think about sleeping with Grantaire, or him being shirtless, or that Grantaire’s lips had actually been wrapped around his cock less than twelve hours ago. He let out a low whine and forced himself to focus. He sat back down at his desk and picked up his phone, staring down at it for a while until he eventually dialled his father’s number.

For a few seconds Enjolras hoped that he’d be busy and wouldn’t answer, then his father’s booming voice greeted. “Enjolras, how are you?”

“I’m fine, Dad, listen, I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be helping out Monsieur Myriel this summer, I hope that’s okay with you.”

“What do you mean you’re helping out Monsieur Myriel?”

“Well, I suppose I’ll be helping with the summer fundraiser they do every year, and maybe I’ll also-”

“I don’t care what you’ll be doing, you’re not going to take that job.”

Enjolras remained silent.

“I told you, you’ll be helping me out at the company.”

“I never agreed to that,” Enjolras said, forcing himself to remain calm.

“You’re not going to waste your summer with organising garden parties and charity fleamarkets, Enjolras,” his father said.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Right, if you say so.”

“We’ll talk about this when you get home. Don’t think for one second that this won’t have consequences. You have responsibilities, Enjolras. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend.” The line went dead before Enjolras could reply.

Enjolras sighed. All in all it had gone better than expected. At least his father hadn’t started yelling, but that might have just been because he’d been at work.

Enjolras then sent a quick reply to Monsieur Myriel, thanking him and telling him that he’d definitely be working for him in the summer. His father would probably throw a fit because of this, but Enjolras really couldn’t bring himself to care. He sent a text to Cosette to warn her not to call their father today, since he knew that she’d meant to ask him for permission to have Marius come visit her for a week or two and their father was more likely to say no when he was in a bad moon already. Which he surely was.

Enjolras really wasn’t looking forward to seeing him again after months of only talking to him on the phone for a couple of minutes every other week or so. He’d much rather spent the summer with his mother, but she’d be away for rehab and so they’d only get to visit her every now and again.

By the time his parents’ divorce was through, Enjolras would probably be eighteen and it wouldn’t matter much anymore anyway. Then he’d be off to university.

Enjolras rubbed at his eyes, because they were stinging all of a sudden. He sniffled and tried to ignore that there were tears rolling down his cheeks, because there was absolutely no reason for him to cry. He could hear someone laugh out in the hallway, someone whose laugh really sounded like Grantaire’s, and only seconds later there was a knock on his door.

Enjolras wiped at his eyes and quickly got up, darting over to his bed so he could pretend he was asleep instead of facing Grantaire and admitting that he’d been crying about absolutely nothing.

There was another knock and when he didn’t answer, he could hear the door swing open. There were quiet footsteps, then his mattress dipped. “Enjolras? Are you okay?”

Enjolras didn’t answer. He was sleeping. Yes, he was fast asleep and if he didn’t respond Grantaire would just leave.

“I can tell you’re not sleeping, you know?”

Well, _shit_. Enjolras cracked his eyes open, looking up at Grantaire, who was staring down at him, looking worried. “I’m fine,” Enjolras muttered, but it came out sounding choked.

Grantaire was clearly at a loss and it took him a couple of seconds to spring into action. He kicked off his shoes and gently pushed Enjolras over so he had enough space to lie down as well. “Did something happen?” Grantaire asked as he tucked Enjolras against his chest.

Enjolras really didn’t know why, but it didn’t help at all, Grantaire holding him only made him cry even more than before. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d cried this much and he very much wanted to tell Grantaire to go away but that would have required talking and he really didn’t feel like he was able to do that right now.

Grantaire did his best to calm him down, held him close and kept whispering _it’s okay_ s and _everything’s going to be fine_ s until Enjolras finally managed to take a couple of deep breaths and calm down a little.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Grantaire asked lowly.

“My parents are getting divorced,” Enjolras muttered into Grantaire’s shirt. Grantaire didn’t reply and Enjolras couldn’t blame him, because that was old news. “And I have to spend the summer with my dad and he basically wants to turn me into his clone and I have no idea how I’m going to stand living in the same house as him all summer and I don’t even know why I’m crying, because it’s really not the end of the world.”

“No, it’s okay to cry, your parents are getting divorced, that’s a pretty good reason if you ask me.”

“I was never even close to them.”

“Doesn’t matter, they’re still your parents. You know, when my dad yelled at me for about half an hour last night, I cared, too, because he’s my dad and I want him to okay with my life choices, but all he did was rant about my quite frankly horrible algebra marks.”

“You didn’t tell me about that,” Enjolras said, feeling like a complete idiot all a sudden.

“Yeah, I meant to, but you seemed busy.”

“Well, you should have told me to stop being busy for a bit.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Grantaire mused and kissed his forehead. “Anyway, I called him about the art school thing, I don’t even know why, and he said exactly what I’d thought he’d say, just with less swear words, so there’s that.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras whispered.

“’s not your fault.” Grantaire sighed. “Sometimes I just want to drop out of school and move away and just try my luck, you know?”

“But you’re not going to.”

“What makes you think I’m not going to?”

“You can’t just drop out of school, Grantaire.”

“Wow, you almost sounded like my dad for a second.”

Enjolras huffed angrily. “Well, I’m sorry, but-”

“No, seriously, stop right there, I don’t feel like discussing my life choices with you right now, because you obviously can’t decide if you want to support me or not,” Grantaire snapped.

“Of course I want to support you, all I’m saying that dropping out of school is hardly reasonable,” Enjolras said, trying to wriggle out of Grantaire’s hold.  

Grantaire let him, glaring at him. “For fuck’s sake, Enjolras, that’s not how to be supportive.”

“Well, what do you want from me, then?” Enjolras asked. He couldn’t believe that Grantaire didn’t understand. Of course he wanted to be there for him, but dropping out of school now when they only had one year left was hardly the best choice.

“Can we just stop talking about this?” Grantaire grumbled.

“But this is important, Grantaire.”

“The only reason I haven’t got up and left yet is because you were crying less than ten minutes ago, I just want you to know that,” Grantaire hissed.

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. “Oh, please, don’t try to spare my feelings, leave if you want to leave.”

“No, I’m not leaving,” Grantaire said and put his arm around him again.

“Okay,” Enjolras mumbled into Grantaire’s shirt.

Grantaire huffed. “Great.”

“Fine.”

“Do you always have to have the last word?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and turned over, away from Grantaire.

“Apparently not, then.” Grantaire shifted closer again, pushed his hair out of the way and kissed the back of his neck. “Tell me when you want me to go away.”

“I never want you to go away,” Enjolras muttered and closed his eyes.


	26. Chapter 26

“I’ll never finish packing,” Courfeyrac whined and proceeded to bury himself under a pile of pillows. “And I’m tired. So, so tired. Enjolras, you’re lucky you didn’t go to the party, I was basically up all night.”

Enjolras had been up all night, too, but he kept that particular fact to himself. They’d all watched the drama group’s play together, but Enjolras and Grantaire had snuck off to his room instead of going to the party that had followed. “You’ll never get done if you keep whining about it instead of actually doing it,” Enjolras said and zipped his backpack shut.

“Enjolras does have a point,” Cosette said. She was done packing if she could be believed on that and had come to Enjolras’ room because she’d tried helping Marius, but had apparently not even made it into his room because it was full of clothes.

Courfeyrac groaned. “It’s just so hard. I mean, I just got so much new stuff since Christmas, I don’t even know where it all came from.”

“Please, I haven’t been home since September. I had to buy another suitcase last weekend to fit all of my stuff,” Cosette muttered.

Enjolras gave her a look and she giggled.

“At least you don’t have to carry it,” Cosette said lightly.

Enjolras sighed. Their father was picking them up the next morning and Enjolras really wasn’t looking forward to the ride home. “I’d honestly rather carry it all the way to the train station than having dad tell me what an ungrateful little bastard I am all the way home.”

“Your dad sounds like an ass, man,” Courfeyrac threw in. “You should come spend the summer with me. We have a pool. You’ve seen the pool, it’s a great pool. And I’ll be in that pool. And Jehan. And possibly Combeferre and Marius. I invited Grantaire as well, what if Grantaire ends up in my pool, don’t you want to be in the same pool as Grantaire?”

“I told you, I have a job.”

“A _volunteer_ job. I doubt they’d mind if you took a couple of days off.”

“They don’t. But I’m meeting Grantaire in Paris, remember?”

“Yeah, have you told dad about that?” Cosette asked, raising her eyebrows.

“I mentioned it. He wasn’t happy about it, but he didn’t say I couldn’t go.”

Cosette hummed thoughtfully. “Did you tell him you were going with your boyfriend?”

“I obviously didn’t,” Enjolras said.

“Maybe you should,” Cosette suggested. “Then take a picture of his face.”

“He’d probably disown me.”

“You know,” Courfeyrac piped up again, “it doesn’t sound like that bothers you much.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Well, it really doesn’t.”

“It’s not like he’ll be poor,” Cosette said sweetly. “Right, honey, how much money’s in your trust fund?”

“About as much as in yours,” Enjolras grumbled and continued packing.

Cosette left soon after, saying she wanted to see how Marius was doing and check if he’d already drowned under all of his clothes. She’d been gone for about five seconds when Courfeyrac threw a pillow at his head.

“What the hell was that for?” Enjolras asked, throwing it back at him, but with much less force.

Courfeyrac caught it with a grin, but quickly grew serious. “Does it bother you?”

Enjolras frowned. “What?”

“That you can’t tell your parents about Grantaire. I mean, Jehan doesn’t want to tell his parents either. Well, he does want to, but he knows that conversation wouldn’t go over too well, so he’d never bring it up.”

“I don’t know, I guess my mum would be alright with it. After a while.” Enjolras shrugged. “But Cosette is right, our dad would probably disown me and throw me out.” Maybe it wouldn’t be quite so extreme, but he probably wouldn’t be mad if Enjolras chose to stay as far away from home as he possibly could.

“And are you planning on telling them?”

“At some point.” He wasn’t sure when would be a good time to drop a bomb like that – especially now that his parents were still in the middle of figuring out who got which car.

“Well, you’ll always have Cosette. And me. You’re always welcome at my place. Mamma doesn’t care who you’re dating, she’ll still make you lasagna.”

“Thanks,” Enjolras muttered and let himself fall onto his bed. Courfeyrac patted his head. “When did you tell your family?”

“I don’t know, I remember telling Danielle that I thought some guy was really hot and I was like ten, so I’m pretty sure that it was always pretty clear to them that I might bring home a guy for dinner one day. But yeah, I mean, when I first came here I wasn’t so sure about all that sexuality crap, I didn’t want people to think I was weird, so I mostly kept quiet about it. Then I met ‘Ferre and he just didn’t care about dating or anything like that, so I felt like I could tell him.”

Enjolras smiled. “I see.”

“Yeah, Combeferre’s a good guy. So are you, though. I mean, you could make an effort to be less grumpy, although that got a lot better since you and Grantaire started dating.” Courfeyrac nudged him with a grin. “How are things going with Grantaire anyway?”

“Fine,” Enjolras said slowly.

“But?” Courfeyrac prompted.

Enjolras shrugged. Well, if there was anyone he could ask, it was definitely Courfeyrac. “Have you slept with Jehan?” he asked, his voice very, very quiet.

“That is definitely not a question I was expecting from you, holy shit.” Courfeyrac laughed. “Well, if you must know, that is indeed a thing that has happened. But didn’t you and Grantaire-”

“Not exactly,” Enjolras muttered. “I suppose it depends on how you define sex.”

“Good point. Some people, including me, would count handjobs as sex.”

“I’m talking about _sex_ sex, though.”

“My answer is still the same, man.”

Enjolras only hummed in reply.

“Is that all you wanted to know, because I was actually expecting really embarrassing question that I would have totally answered because we’re bros and I help my bros out by answering questions that they’re too embarrassed to google.”

Enjolras hummed again, but didn’t say a word.

“Okay, I guess I’ll just keep talking until you can’t take it anymore and you have to tape my mouth shut. See, it was Saturday night, so we were sure that Lamarque wouldn’t bother us and we waited until everyone had gone to bed and obviously we had to be quiet. And I was really nervous and Jehan was really nervous, but it was okay in the end, I mean, obviously it wasn’t perfect, you know what it’s like, stuff doesn’t always go as planned, but yeah. You know what, I changed my mind, I’m not gonna go into detail.”

“That’s okay,” Enjolras muttered. “Really, I don’t need the details.”

“Good. Just talk to Grantaire about it before it actually happens. And bring a condom. Maybe more than one. And a lot of lube, seriously.”

“Um, thanks?” Enjolras whispered.

“You’re welcome, sweetcheeks,” Courfeyrac cooed and patted his cheek.

* * *

“Are you done packing?”

“Pretty much,” Enjolras said, looking up at Grantaire who was standing in his doorway. “What about you?”

“Nah, I still have all morning. Do you want to come down to the lake for a bit?”

Enjolras grinned. “Sure,” he said and let Grantaire pull him to his feet and march him down to the lake, where they both let themselves fall into the grass, a little further away from where most of their fellow students were sitting, chatting idly and laughing. No one was paying them any mind – they were all too engrossed in telling each other about their plans for the summer.

With a sigh, Enjolras closed his eyes, wondering how long he could stay right where he was without getting ridiculously sunburnt. He pried an eye open to look over at Grantaire, who was decidedly too far away from him, and reached out, managing to catch the sleeve of Grantaire’s shirt between his fingers.

Grantaire chuckled. “What are you doing?”

“You’re too far away,” Enjolras said, sticking out his bottom lip. “Come over here?”

“Why don’t _you_ come _over here_?” Grantaire asked and wiggled his eyebrows at him, but was already moving closer. “Better now?”

Enjolras hummed and rolled on top of Grantaire, propping up his chin on his chest. “Much better.”

One of Grantaire’s hands snuck into his hair, winding stray curls around his fingers. “I’m going to miss this.”

“This?” Enjolras asked and leaned down to kiss his neck.

Grantaire hummed. “That too.”

Enjolras nuzzled at Grantaire’s neck one more time, well aware that he was probably crushing him, then he slid off him and curled around his side. “Do you think Lamarque will notice if I sleep in your room tonight?”

“Nah, just sneak over around midnight, he won’t notice. And if he does notice, maybe he won’t even care. It’s our last night, you know, last year I spent all night in Joly’s room watching cat videos on Youtube and no one cared. I don’t think anyone even noticed.”

“Good,” Enjolras mumbled. “I’ll probably be extremely annoying and text you every day to complain about my dad, I hope that’s okay with you.”

Grantaire kissed his head. “Can’t wait.”

“And you have to promise me that you’ll come back next year.”

“Sure,” Grantaire said lightly.

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

Enjolras fell silent because he knew that pushing it would only result in another fight and now that he had less than twenty-four hours left with Grantaire that was most definitely the last thing he wanted to happen.

Grantaire remained silent as well, the only indicator that he wasn’t asleep were his fingers, wandering up and down Enjolras’ spine. Enjolras was pretty sure that he was thinking, about something that made him nervous, because he started plucking at the grass with the hand that wasn’t currently toying with the hem of Enjolras’ shirt.

Enjolras wasn’t quite sure whether or not he should ask, since Grantaire generally didn’t really like talking about things that bothered him. “I can practically hear you think, you know?”

Grantaire only grumbled something inaudible into his hair.

Enjolras sat up. “Huh?”

“I said I was just thinking about Paris,” Grantaire mumbled.

“Ah, that.” Enjolras tilted his head. “Your parents won’t mind, right?”

“Well, I’m not going to the Caribbean with them, so I’d only be sitting around at home anyway. And I turn eighteen in two and a half weeks, so it’s not like they can stop me. But yeah, I guess they won’t care as long as I don’t waste my time with _that useless art business_. I might actually be at my grandparents’ place and I’m pretty sure they won’t mind if I leave for a couple of days. Everything’s fine as long as I don’t put any effort in becoming a useless member of society and bringing shame upon my family.”

“He didn’t actually say that, did he?”

“Not in so many words,” Grantaire said lowly, looking up at Enjolras with narrowed eyes.

“What?” Enjolras asked, frowning.

“You’d tell me if you didn’t want to go anymore, right?” Grantaire asked.

“Why wouldn’t I want to go anymore?”

“I don’t know. Just… don’t feel like you have to.”

“I don’t,” Enjolras said. “I want to see you.”

“Okay. I just wanted to tell you… it’s fine if you change your mind.”

Enjolras wasn’t quite sure why Grantaire felt the need to tell him this. “Wait, did you change your mind?”

“No, of course not.” Grantaire sighed and rolled his eyes. “Look, we both know you could do so much better. I was just waiting for you to realise, but you never broke up with me as much as I fucked up.”

“Of course I wouldn’t break up with you, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Sometimes I just don’t understand why you put up with me.” Grantaire bit his lip. “Actually not just sometimes. I never understood and I never will.”

Enjolras was pretty sure that now would be a good time to tell him that he was ridiculously in love with him, but he didn’t quite know how to put it into words without sounding completely ridiculous. “I don’t like it when you talk like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re not good enough for me.”

“Well, I’m not,” Grantaire said, sounding a bit like a petulant child.

“Yes, you are.”

“Staring me down is not gonna convince me, you know?”

“We’ll see about that,” Enjolras muttered and proceeded to, well, stare Grantaire down. He didn’t look away until Grantaire cracked a smile and Enjolras had to lean down to kiss him.

* * *

Enjolras was woken up by Grantaire kissing him on the nose the next morning and Enjolras startled awake, having forgotten that he wasn’t actually in his own room.

He was fairly certain that he ended up smacking their faces together before he quickly pulled back, but thankfully Grantaire was laughing, so Enjolras obviously hadn’t actually hurt him. “Good morning,” Grantaire choked out, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot I wasn’t in my own room,” Enjolras muttered and turned over, nearly falling out of Grantaire’s bed in the process. “Maybe I should just get up.”

He stumbled out of bed, looking around in confusion until he realised that all of his stuff was in the next room. Grantaire’s room was a terrible mess, there were clothes everywhere, but his suitcase was still empty.

Enjolras’ eyes feel on Grantaire’s green hoodie. It was summer. Grantaire could probably live without it for a bit. Enjolras picked it up and turned around again. “Do you need this?”

“Do I _need_ it?” Grantaire echoed. “You mean right now? Because he’d really rather wear something lighter.”

“No, I mean, would you miss it terribly if you didn’t have it over the summer?”

Grantaire’s eyes went wide all of a sudden. “ _Oh_. I, um, no I don’t need it.”

“Okay,” Enjolras said, smiling at him, “I’ll borrow it, then.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather borrow something that has actually been washed in the last two months or something?”

Enjolras shook his head and cradled the hoodie against his chest. “This is just fine.”

* * *

“Who the hell is my dad talking to?”Grantaire asked, peering around one of the pillars in the entrance hall.

Enjolras joined him, trying to figure out who Grantaire was looking at. He could see his own father across the hall, talking to a man whose hair could have looked exactly like Grantaire’s had it been a little longer. “Um, that would be _my_ dad.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Fantastic.” Grantaire gave Enjolras a pat on the back. “Should we say hi?”

“I don’t know, I mean, we’re friends, right?”

“Friends, yeah.”

They walked over slowly, past other parents who were talking to each other animatedly – as it seemed mostly about their holiday homes and the stock market and their jobs and their cars.

“This is my friend Grantaire,” Enjolras said to his father without even greeting him.

“And that’s my friend Enjolras,” Grantaire added, looking at his father, who had his eyes fixed on Enjolras with smile that actually wasn’t unpleasant. “He’s going to Paris with me this summer,” he added lowly, looking down at his feet.

Enjolras nodded. “Yeah, we were gonna take a look at the…” He was about to say museums, but Grantaire’s father surely wouldn’t be too happy about that.

“Universities,” Grantaire supplied helpfully. “We thought that was a good idea.”

“So you’ve decided to actually do something useful this summer,” Enjolras’ father said dryly. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Well, if you need help finding a place to stay, let me know. I often do business in Paris, I know some nice places,” Grantaire’s father said to Enjolras. “Grantaire, are you ready to leave?”

“I just have to say goodbye to everyone first.”

“Well, be quick about it.”

Grantaire nodded, looking up at Enjolras, who was still busy trying to figure out how Grantaire’s father could be so nice to him one second and then so rude to his own son the next. “Enjolras, are you coming?”

Enjolras nodded, then he let Grantaire drag him back across the hall, where Joly and Bossuet were hugging, Combeferre looking on with an amused smile.

“They hugged for nearly half an hour last year,” Combeferre told Enjolras when he and Grantaire joined them.

“We’ll break that record, just you wait,” Joly muttered and reached out to tug Grantaire right into the middle of their embrace. “’Aire, if you don’t come visit me, I’ll be very, very cross with you.”

“Duly noted,” Grantaire muttered, grinning at Enjolras.

Combeferre squeezed Enjolras’ shoulder. “I suppose we’ll see each other at some point this summer?”

“I’m sure we can arrange that,” Enjolras said.

“Are you having a group hug without me?” Courfeyrac called from down the hall. He started running, his suitcase in one hand and Jehan in the other, barrelling right into Bossuet’s back with a squeal. “Enjolras, ‘Ferre, come on, it’s group hug time.”

Marius and Cosette joined them only seconds later, Bahorel did, too, but reluctantly, before he decided to try to squish them all to death, then Eponine and Musichetta appeared as well, watching them with broad grins on their faces.

They all slowly broke apart again, chatting idly, because none of them actually felt like going home just yet. Their parents could wait a little longer.

 Feuilly came to say goodbye to them, too, then Lamarque whished them all a nice summer, and Javert appeared and actually had a smile to spare for them.

“Was that his way of saying thank you for not breaking into the swimming pool this year?” Grantaire asked lowly.

“What makes you think that we didn’t break into the swimming pool this year?” Courfeyrac asked innocently. “Ah guys, I can’t believe another year’s over, you’re all growing up so fast. I feel like Harry Potter at the end of his first year at Hogwarts. _I’m not going home. Not really_ ,” he whispered dramatically.

And even though Enjolras laughed along with the others, he couldn’t help but think that Courfeyrac was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have to thank you again for all your lovely comments and the kudos!  
> I really enjoyed writing this fic (and it turned out the be the longest thing I've ever written, which is pretty cool.)  
> (Forgive the Harry Potter reference, I just couldn't help myself.)
> 
> If anyone is interested, I also have a [writing blog](http://musains.tumblr.com/).
> 
> And this fic now has a follow up that can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2194458/chapters/4806486)


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